The Injunction
by Courbeau
Summary: The Ministry of Magic passes a new law, and George and Hermione get thrown together in the face of it. Slightly different take on a Marriage Law.
1. Chapter 1

Tomorrow Hogwarts would be flooded with students again and this time there would be no more fear plaguing the world in which they lived, evident in every young face passing through the massive entrance doors into the castle. On September 1, innocent happiness would once again spread through the stone corridors like lifeblood. The first day of classes would mark four months since the final battle on these very grounds that many had spent the last 119 days rebuilding.

Hermione took one last glance at the Great Hall which had been returned to its former glory. Happiness bubbled through her veins and sunlight streamed through the new window panes bathing everything in a warm light. Debris no longer coated every surface and the bloodstains had been scrubbed from the stone floors.

"Granger."

Fred had come to a stop beside Hermione, hands buried in his jean pockets. Hermione smiled up at him before returning her gaze to the large room in front of her, thinking how far they had all come in the last four months, when the rubble and dust had coated everything and everyone. Not only had they repaired the school but the magical community was starting to put their lives back together as well.

"Hello, Fred."

"Fantastic, isn't it?"

"The fact that we're done fixing this place up or the fact that an inordinate amount of food will soon be gracing these tables?" she laughed.

"Well, I had meant the first one but now that you mention it..." Fred returned with a chuckle.

"Are you also heading out for the day?" Hermione waved to Professor McGonagall who stood on the platform at the far end of the hall in front of the High Table. The older woman gave a small wave as Hermione and Fred turned and started for the front doors.

"Yeah. I should get back to the shop and help George with the last few hours of business before all the students get shipped here tomorrow. It's been a bloody madhouse - watch it!"

"Ooomph!"

"Ouch, Ron, that's my foot!"

"Sorry! Sorry," Ron repeated, holding a hand out for Fred to pull himself up. The older brother slapped his hand away lightly and looked pleadingly at Hermione.

"Be a dear and help me up, Granger," he laughed good-naturedly at Ron's open mouth. "I'd just get into more trouble accepting this git's help."

Hermione's small hand was extended out to the twin and he took it, waggling his eyebrows at Ron as his palm clasped hers. He sprung up and threw his arm over Hermione's shoulder.

"What say you to dinner at the Burrow? Mum insisted that we wrangle you in somehow for tonight, seeing as it's the end of all this Hogwarts overhaul and all," Fred continued as if nothing has happened and Ron trailed after them down the front steps and into the courtyard.

"Oh, yes please. I wasn't looking too forward to leftover takeout tonight, if I'm being honest," Hermione answered, brushing a large smear of dust from her cardigan sleeve.

"Then ye shall dine with kings, m'lady," Fred took three bounding steps into one of the temporary Apparition Points McGonagall had set up for the reconstruction volunteers in the Entrance Courtyard. He turned, snapped off a salute to Hermione, and spun on his heel, disappearing with a twinkling smile and a pop.

Hermione shook her head with a grin and held out her elbow to Ron who followed her into the circle. He threaded his arm with hers carefully and pulled her closer.

"Ready?" He asked, regarding the witch beside him with bright eyes.

Hermione answered with a small smile and squeeze on his forearm, and Ron whipped them away into the abyss.

Hours later, after a raucous supper with the large Weasley family that included second helpings of everything, Hermione sat with her feet curled under herself on one of the worn chairs in the living room, cradling her half-empty mug of tea. She had spent the evening laughing with the lot of them and discussing the efforts of the volunteers at Hogwarts. Arthur had just turned their conversation from his new appointment of Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation to Hermione and what she wanted to do with herself now that her time would be freed up to consider more schooling or a career.

"I'm not so sure at the moment. With everything..." she trailed off, feeling somewhat like her answer was lacking in every way possible; drive, direction, motivation, conviction.

"It _has_ been a long time coming, the quiet peacefulness," Arthur commented with a thoughtful smile. "No one would begrudge you some time to just think and relax, Hermione. I'd say you deserve a break after the last seven and a half years of keeping my son's head attached to his neck. Not to mention Harry, of course."

Hermione smiled and swilled her tea around in her mug, casting her eyes downward.

"I know. It's just hard to think of me, with a normal life. No danger of being a human chess piece or planning on breaking into Gringotts or being Petrified for the better part of a year. Just a regular life with a regular job? That's all I've wished for us - _all _of us - for years. It feels odd having that as an actual possibility now, just waiting for me to reach out a grasp it."

Arthur laughed and pressed a hand to his middle, swallowing his almost-spewed mouthful of lukewarm tea.

"I can only imagine." He paused, the thoughtful look back in place upon his face. Hermione was quiet as she turned her head to survey the room of family around her.

Fred and George had their heads bent together over a few sheaves of parchment while Ginny sat next to them on the couch with a book propped up on her thighs. Her back was leaning against Harry's side as he tried in vain to save the chess game he was engaged in with Ron. Ron was sitting cross-legged on the floor with the board balanced on a footrest between himself and Harry. Molly had just come around the corner wiping her damp hands on a tea towel.

"Right, would anyone like a top-up?"

She made the rounds with the teapot floating along beside her, her wand making tiny gestures and dividing the remaining brew between George, Ginny and Hermione's mugs as they had been the only ones out of the lot to answer Molly.

"I'm going to take the laundry down from the line and head upstairs, Arthur. You lot, don't stay up too late tonight. Have a lovely sleep, dear," she said, speaking to the group at large and directing the last bit at Hermione.

"You too, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione smiled up at the older witch, lowering her mug as the teapot drifted away to the kitchen and Molly patted her on the shoulder.

"Oh, I'll come help you dear." Mr. Weasley drained his mug before extricating himself from his chair and patting Hermione gently on the shoulder as well. "Goodnight, Hermione. And don't think too hard about it. Just go with what will make you happy. You deserve it, truly."

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley," Hermione smiled up at him.

Arthur followed Molly out the back door and his footsteps could be heard lightly on the back steps after the clatter of the screen. Hermione turned her gaze out the window to her side. The moon shone down from a cloudless night sky accompanied by a few twinkling stars.

"Hermione," Ginny drew her attention back inside as she closed her book with a sharp snap, "do you want to stay here tonight? It's getting late." The redhead lowered her feet to the carpet and twisted so that her back was against the couch and she threaded her arm with Harry's. He was being valiantly slain by Ron at this point, the game coming to a close quickly.

"Yeah, that would be nice. I'll just nip home to set out some food for Crookshanks and grab some pajamas and I'll be back." Hermione rose and stretched before setting out to leave her mug in the kitchen sink and find her shoes at the back door. Ginny trotted after her.

"Do you mind if I tag along? I haven't seen Crooks in-"

"Two whole days?" Hermione laughed quietly. "C'mon."

The girls slipped their feet into their sandals and skipped down the back porch steps. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were staring adoringly at each other while folding a large bed sheet between the two of them, as if laundry duty was the most romantic pastime.

"Be right back, Mum! Hermione's getting some things to stay over tonight," Ginny called and received an unconcerned flap of the hand as an answer. The girls reached the corner of the property and clasped hands before Hermione apparated them into her flat.

"Croo-ooks!" Ginny immediately let go of her friend's hand and went to the kitchen to fill his food and water dish so Hermione could get her things. "Crookshanks!"

Hermione laughed as he appeared on the counter post haste.

"Hello, my lovely boy! I haven't seen you in so long, have I? Oh, I missed you, yes I did-" Ginny crooned to the cat as she scratched behind his ears and pressed her face into his fur lovingly. While Harry, Ron and her had been hunting horcruxes, Ginny had taken care of the aging half-kneazle and he had lived with Hermione at the Burrow until Hermione had found her own place.

It was just a tiny studio apartment in muggle London in a rather old building. They didn't ask questions about her life, her job, or even require references. Nobody minded her business and that was what Hermione has chosen this place for. She didn't want to be recognized and she didn't want people to pay enough attention to realize that she went out and came back and never seemed to use her front door aside from taking out the trash. It had just enough room for her purposes; clockwise from the front door was a small kitchen on one wall with a small fridge and half size oven and stovetop. Next came the large plush chair with a reading lamp standing behind it in the corner. That wall had two bookcases side by side, packed with her favourite volumes. After close to a year living with her books in scattered piles and heaps inside of a magically enhanced beaded bag, this was the first thing Hermione had set out to fix when she had moved in shortly after the war ended. The wall across from the front door had a large window with a few small flower pots sitting on the sill where the sunlight would naturally fall during the day. Under it was a small chest of drawers with some knick knacks sitting on the surface. Next came Hermione's small side table and bed; a large fluffy duvet over an equally large mattress sitting in an antique wrought iron frame. Pillows were stacked against the headboard as if she had been reading in bed the last time she had been home. In the corner closest to the front door, there was an open doorway that lead to her small bathroom.

Hermione let Ginny have her time with Crookshanks and pulled a backpack out from under her bed before pulling some sleep clothes from the top drawer of the chest along with some clean clothes for tomorrow. She padded past the mass of red hair and purring cat to the bathroom to fetch her toothbrush and toiletries.

"Do you have plans for tomorrow?" Ginny surfaced, combing a hand through her hair and picking cat hair out of her lip balm.

"No, I hadn't really thought about it. Hogwarts took up all of my time but now that's done with for the time being I'm not sure what to do with myself." Hermione threw in her shampoo, conditioner, and body wash into her bag before flicking off the light and setting the bag on the counter. Crookshanks wound around Ginny's arms and rubbed his head on Hermione's hand. She raised it to his fur and brushed along his spine, eliciting a hearty purr that reverberated loudly.

"Stay at the house with me tomorrow? I was just going to relax by the lake and soak in the last few rays of sunshine. Nothing strenuous. It would be nice to have a summer day like we used to, just hanging out."

"Girl time, you mean?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Yes! Hermione, I need girl time. You do to," Ginny stated, shaking her hair and smiling at Hermione. "C'mon. It'll be fun."

"Yeah, alright. Let me just-"

"Grab a book, yeah yeah." Ginny turned with a grin to refill Crookshanks' water dish and Hermione crossed around to the far side of her bed to retrieve her current read. Closing the blinds on her window, Hermione joined Ginny back in the kitchen. She swept her wand over the small room, renewing some privacy and protection charms before holding her hand out once again to her redheaded friend.

"Goodbye, my darling," Ginny crooned at Crookshanks, who gave her one last nudge before jumping down and settling beside his dish of food.

They reappeared in the same spot they had left and both girls started towards the house.

"I was thinking we could paint each other's nails or something equally as girly," Ginny was giggling before she stopped short and threw out a hand to stop Hermione, effectively killing the brunette's answering laughter. Both fell silent in order to clearly hear a commotion going on inside the Burrow. Hermione's eyes found the laundry hamper where they had left Ginny's parents. Only half the laundry had made it down from the line and tub of clothespins had been knocked over in someone's haste.

"Oh no-"

Ginny and Hermione sprinted toward the backdoor, wands drawn, and burst through the doorway with a clatter of the screen door.

"What-"

"No, I had no idea-"

"What was Kingsley thinking-"

"We don't know all the facts-"

"I don't want to-"

"Oh, bollocks, the tea-"

"George!"

"Sorry mum! I've got it, here-"

"But that can't be right-"

"Percy, explain-"

Ginny and Hermione came to a halt as they rounded the corner to see all the Weasleys safe and unharmed but all on their feet and in the centre of it all stood Percy.

"Oh, Ginny-"

"WHAT the bloody hell is going on? Hermione and I thought something terrible had-"

"Oh, no, dear, I'm so sorry. I didn't think what would have looked like, just left like that. Sorry, just - QUIET!"

The room fell silent at Molly's raised voice.

"We're all alive and well, dear," Mrs. Weasley turned back to the room. "Arthur, will you put the kettle on again? Let's take this to the table and figure this out."

Hermione sent a curious glance to Ron who looked quite confused. He met Hermione's eyes but he just shrugged. George prompted his brother into action and Ron stumbled forward in the direction of the kitchen table following after Fred, Arthur, and Molly.

"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione asked in a hushed voice as she shuffled into the kitchen beside her friend.

"I've really no idea, Hermione. Percy just came barreling in, talking like a madman about something and Mr. Weasley was trying to slow him down and get him to explain, but it doesn't sound good, whatever it is," Harry summed up, settling into a seat at the end of the table.

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione sat down to his left.

"You can say that again," George piped up from behind them, filing into the kitchen after them and rounding the table to sit on Harry's right, beside Fred. The look on his face made Hermione's stomach plummet.

So much for a peaceful day by the lake tomorrow.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't have time to think about it before-" Percy was still rambling to Mr. Weasley as he set the kettle on the burner, lighting the flame with the tip of his wand.

"I'm sure it's okay, dear. Just sit down, there's a good boy. Now," Molly pushed Percy's lanky frame down into the chair closest to him. "Start from the beginning. What is this all about?" She demanded sharply.

Percy took a shaky breath and cast his eyes around the room to his siblings.

"Okay. Okay. I was at work late, trying to get a few extra reports done for tomorrow and as I was leaving I noticed a group of Wizengamot officials leaving, which was odd, so I hung around to see what the issue was, since it was late and they usually don't stay at the Ministry past five since-"

"Right, son, get back to the point-"

"Right, sorry. So I overhear them talking and they just passed a law and I asked one of them what it had to do with and he handed me this pamphlet-"

Percy pulled a rumpled pamphlet from his robes and gave it to his father to look over.

"And so I ran back to my desk and read it over, because of the title, I just couldn't not know-"

"What is it about, you great prat? We're all sitting here waiting-"

"Fred!" Molly chastised.

"Well, we _are_!"

"Arthur?" Molly asked quietly.

"It's... they can't... This can't be legal..." Arthur's mouth opened and closed in quick succession, making it look like he was a fish out of water.

"What is it?"

"The Injunction for Magical Perpetuation," he read, quoting the header at the top of the leaflet in a tone of bewilderment.

"What does _that_ mean?" Ginny exclaimed.

Mr. Weasley gazed up into the stricken face of his wife, a look of disbelief in his eyes. The room was silent apart from Percy's heavy breathing. In fact, the rest of the room held its breath while they tried to figure out just what the Ministry had done.

"It means babies," Hermione's voice cut through the silence, "Doesn't it?"

Percy looked down the table to meet her eyes before flicking to the rest of the faces staring at him.

"Yes."

"What-"

"Shhh, let your brother explain!" Molly hushed Ron quickly.

"It means," he started, before taking a gulp of air, "that the ministry is assigning people into a pair and expecting us to repopulate the magical community."

In that moment, you could have heard the gently fluttering cloak of a Dementor from a mile away.

"It says, in there, that the Ministry would allow any engagements that had been registered before midnight tonight and those people would be exempt from the matching process. They didn't want to allow people any time to figure out how to get out of their pair before they could implement it. So I - oh god, I'm so sorry, but I could think of so many worse pairings considering - I registered all of us as being engaged."

Arthur looked up from the paper in his hands, face lined with worry.

"Son, I'm sure you did the best thing. I don't see any other way... They didn't leave much time. Who did you - put together?"

"Percy, tell me you put me with Harry!" Ginny's voice ripped from her throat. The girl was clutching the table with white knuckles.

"Of course," Percy rushed out. "Of course I did. How could I not?"

"And everyone else?" Molly prompted.

The Weasley boys were all quiet for once. They were regarding their brother expectantly. Harry was the only one smiling; Ginny had left her seat and moved to sit on Harry's lap, tears glistening in her eyes in relief.

"Well, Fred and Angelina-"

"Cor, thank god, mate that was a close one-"

"Myself and Penelope, or course-"

"Yes of course, dear-"

"Ron and Lavender, since they already-"

Hermione's eyes flew to Ron, who looked shell-shocked at the turn of events for himself. Harry grimaced and patted Ron on the back.

"Charlie and Alyssa, since they've been together so long already, and George and Hermione," Percy ended with a heavy sigh.

Molly gasped and Ron grunted and the others made no sound.

Hermione felt George's eyes on her face, as well as the rest of the room, but she didn't dare let her gaze leave Percy's face.

"Thank you."

Percy looked at her, shocked.

"Thank you," Hermione repeated. "Who knows who the ministry would have seen fit to pair me with? I'm guessing there's something in there that has to do with bloodlines and mixing magical ancestry? Which means I would be paired with a pureblood, and we all know who the eligible candidates would have been."

Hermione stood and rounded the table to Percy before throwing her arms around his shoulders and squeezing. She didn't know how she felt about this turn of events but she did know that he had spared her a likely uncomfortable fate. When she returned to her seat, she convinced herself to look at George. His blue eyes didn't flinch from her, and he let his face slip into a dashing Weasley grin.

"All right, Granger?" He quirked his eyebrow and she nodded, rolling her eyes.

Although this whole thing was a shock, Hermione mused, it could have turned out so much worse for her considering that there were still many people in the magical community who, despite the downfall of Lord Voldemort, didn't support magic in the hands of people they considered less worthy because of their parentage.

"Pity you get the ugly one," Fred barked.

"Boys!" Molly scolded, letting out a breath.

"Well... That could have gone over much worse. But we do need to take care of this right away, I assume. Percy?" Mr. Weasley prompted.

"Yes. Well, I'm not sure how the Ministry is checking up on these 'registered engagements' but I would hazard a guess that we don't have long to prepare. We need to inform Angelina, Penelope, Charlie and Alyssa, and Lavender right away. Wouldn't hurt to have rings for them. I don't know where we're going to get them-"

"We'll figure it out somehow."

"Well, we have one less to worry about," Harry spoke up and the table turned to him. He had shifted Ginny from his lap and she was standing in front of him. Harry was down on one knee and digging around in his pocket. After a brief moment he pulled out a black velvet box and looked up at Ginny. She was shaking now and her hair had swung down like a curtain, blocking her face from view from everyone but Harry. Hermione couldn't see her friend's face but she could see the trembling of her shoulders. Hermione grinned, clasping her hands together and leaning forward expectantly.

"Ginny, I've had this in my pocket for ages, trying to get the timing right. I would have done this regardless of the law but, now seems like a good a time as any - I love you so much and I can't bear to live without you - Ginny, will you marry me?" Harry laughed softly, holding her gaze tenderly as he cracked the small box open, waiting for Ginny to answer. Hermione's heart swelled up in her chest at her best friend's simple declaration of love.

Molly hiccupped and Hermione turned to see the matriarch pressing a hand over her mouth, tears welling in her eyes.

Ginny didn't seem to be able to get it out, so she settled for a gentle nod, which grew exponentially into a frantic nod as she pulled Harry up and clutched him tight to her.

"Yes, of course - of course I'll marry you!" She finally found her words and burst into tears, hiding her face in Harry's shirt. Harry stood with the small girl wrapped around him with one hand still somewhat extended holding the open ring box as he grinned deliriously at the top of her fiery head. As he tightened his arms around his now-fiancé, Hermione caught a glimpse of the ring and her eyes widened.

"Oi, Ginny! Put the bloody ring on, will you?" Fred voiced from halfway down the table. "Poor bloke's been carrying that rock around for long enough."

"You knew?!" Molly exclaimed from her spot leaning against her husband.

"'Course," George answered. "He asked us about it months ago."

Fred, Percy and Mr. Weasley nodded absently, the latter of which was beaming at his daughter entwined with Harry at the other end of the table. He dislodged Molly softly and rose, circling to the other end towards them before pulling Ginny into a fatherly hug and slapping Harry's back.

"Congratulations!" The father laughed good-naturedly and Harry blushed a further shade darker. As Harry shook Mr. Weasley's hand a bit over-enthusiastically, Ginny broke away to embrace Hermione, who was only a step away.

The girls pulled each other tight and Ginny was still shaking from what Hermione assumed was shock and happiness, giddiness and nervousness all rolled into one. Her stomach fluttered in excitement for her best girl friend. Molly was just a beat behind and she wrapped her arms around the two girls tightly before cradling Ginny's face between her palms.

"Oh, my darling girl!" she exclaimed, "You'll be such a beautiful bride! And you too, Hermione! I'm so happy you'll officially be a part of the family!"

Hermione had been admiring the shiny ring on Ginny's finger when Molly had said her name, and she dropped the girls hand quickly.

"Oh, I thought - it's just that - I thought it was just for show and we wouldn't actually-" she stuttered, eyes snapping to George's over his mother's shoulder.

"Oh, don't be silly dear. We didn't raise any of our boys to be like that. If you'll be giving us grandbabies-"

"Molly, best let them discuss the particulars. That's really up to them. Not as if this is exactly conventional..." Arthur mediated.

The mother suddenly startled and flustered herself.

"Of course! You're right, Arthur. No matter what you decide, we'll support you. Though I can't deny I wouldn't be ecstatic if you got married..."

Hermione blushed as she watched the boys and Arthur sit back down after clapping Harry on the back and hugging Ginny. George took control quickly.

"We'll go over everything, mum, and then make the best decision." He shot Hermione a reassuring glance accompanied by a small smile which Hermione returned somewhat hesitantly, blushing even darker.

How was this all going to work out? She had to have children with George Weasley? She wasn't even sure she _wanted_ children and now she was engaged to be married (in the very least as a charade and quite possibly as a precursor to an actual marriage that had been forced upon her all in the last hour).

"Yes, I uh, think I should say that the paper doesn't say that if you register as engaged that you must marry at all. It's not specific about anything of that nature. Of course once the general public is aware of all this, the terms and conditions will be spelled out quite clearly. I doubt the general public will be happy with this new law and the Ministry surely kept that in mind while drawing it up," Percy finished somewhat lamely and sat back in his chair. "Again, I'm so sorry to have signed you up for this without your knowledge."

"Nah, Perce, you did the best you could in a moment of crisis. However," Fred rose quickly, "I have a future wife to go propose to," the twin made his way along the table to his parents, patting Percy on the shoulder as he went. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mum, Dad."

"Yes, we should all agree to meet back here tomorrow for dinner and make sure we have everything sorted before we find ourselves answering to the Ministry," Mr. Weasley commented, waiting for a nod from his relatively silent sons.

"As if that wasn't going to happen regardless," George laughed and followed after his twin, pecking his mother on the cheek. "Hermione, could I have a quick word before we go?"

Hermione looked across the table at him, her face red. She rose and followed his tall frame through to the living room quietly. George had leaned his hips back against the back edge of the couch behind him and crossed one ankle over the other, accentuating his lanky form. With his arms braced on the back of the couch as well, he gazed at her intently with his blue-gray eyes. Hermione stepped beside him and imitated his stance against the couch.

"So..." she started, unsure of how to continue.

"Yeah," George laughed, raising a hand to rake through his hair. Silence fell between them as they both tried to process the last hour of urgency that had culminated in Percy admitting to pairing them together in the face of this new ordinance.

"Well, I suppose the best thing would be to wait until tomorrow, when the general public becomes aware of all this, and get all the facts. And go from there?" Hermione suggested timidly. "I have one of my mother's rings, so I can just use that for now until we figure all this out. I don't know about you but I'm still a bit..."

"Shocked? Stunned? Astounded?" George offered, turning his head to look down at her.

"Yeah, all of the above, really," Hermione gazed up at him, fighting the urge to blush again now that it had subsided somewhat. George paused, quirking his mouth to the side, as if debating whether or not to say something.

"What is it?" Hermione asked. "I mean, I know what it _is_, but..."

"Just thinking that you're blushing awfully hard over the thought of being married to me," George teased and Hermione's face once again burned. "But really, like you said, it could have been much worse. We'll figure this all out. In the very least, you're safe from some dirty old Slytherin's paws."

"How are you so calm? Your brother just saddled you with _me_!" Hermione's gaze found the floor.

"Hermione," George began, pausing, "Percy didn't _saddle_ me with you. Do I seem distraught to you?"

"No," Hermione huffed, refusing to look up again.

"No. Because I'm not. So please don't _you_ be. I'm sure you'll be up all night thinking this over and fretting but try not to worry," he paused again, extending a finger to raise her chin so that her eyes met his once more. "Hermione, we _all_ care about you, myself included. So if this keeps you safe and happy, this is what we'll do. Besides, we're an alright match; I'm dashingly handsome and you're not hard on the eyes, are you?" George then grinned as Hermione's jaw dropped.

"George!"

"Well, you're not! All big brown eyes and lovely hips, you are."

"George Weasley!" Hermione pushed off of the couch and braced her hands instead on her hips.

"Yeah, those ones," George laughed, his cheeks a bit flushed under the spattering of freckles.

Hermione sputtered, not able to think of anything more to say. George laughed harder and reached out to pull her into his side.

"Relax, Hermione. I'll see you tomorrow night and we'll figure this out then. Don't know about you, but I'm _knackered_," George drew out for emphasis. He stood up tall and wrapped his other arm around Hermione, hugging her close. Hermione let her head rest against his chest, noting with an unknown feeling that his heart thudded rather quickly against her ear. "It'll all turn out all right."

Hermione nodded into his chest and sighed, pulling away gently.

"Goodnight, George," Hermione ambled back in the direction of the kitchen. "And thank you."

"For what?" He followed after her to say goodbye to the others.

"Just... for being so calm, I suppose."

"Anytime, Granger. Goodnight mum, dad. Be seeing you tomorrow," George called, making for the back door quickly. He caught Hermione's eye and gave her cheeky wink before disappearing into the back garden.

With Hermione's cheeks tinged red in remembrance of George's comments about her looks, she joined Molly at the sink to help clean up the tea mugs from earlier. Arthur had put the kettle on a second time but it had been all but forgotten in light of recent events.

"Hello, dear. George gone?"

Hermione grabbed a tea towel and one of the freshly washed cups Molly had just set on the drying rack with dripping hands.

"Yeah, just left," Hermione set about drying the mug, leaning a hip against the counter.

"What a palaver!" Molly commented, turning her head to survey Hermione's somewhat distracted look. "Not to worry, dear. George will take good care of you, no matter what you decide to do or how it turns out." She gave the girl beside her a reassuring smile, before plunking another clean mug up onto the draining board.

"I know," Hermione paused. "Do you think I could have a look at that pamphlet Percy had?"

"Of course. dear. It's on the table just there," Molly motioned over her shoulder. "I thought you might want to have a go at it after everything settled a bit."

The women made short work of the dishes and after putting the mugs away in the cupboard, Molly said her goodnights. Hermione regarded the empty kitchen for a moment, wondering where everyone had disappeared to. Percy had probably gone home, the twins had left, Ron was probably upstairs in his room and Ginny was probably in hers. Deciding to leave the paper for further study in the morning, Hermione grabbed her backpack, flicked off the light and climbed the stairs up to the second floor quietly. Ginny's door was ajar and Hermione pushed it open.

Harry and Ginny were sitting on Ginny's bed as close as two people could be without sitting on each other. They were grinning like idiots and whispering about something between the two of them as Hermione entered the room.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione voiced.

Her black-haired friend turned his head.

"Hey, Hermione. I was just about to go home," Harry stood from the bed. "Congratulations on your engagement!" He laughed.

"Thanks," Hermione chuckled. "And you!"

The two shared a hug before Harry turned to place a kiss on Ginny's head.

"See you tomorrow, Gin."

"Bye, Harry. I love you!"

"Love you too."

The two shared a sickenly sweet look before Harry closed the door behind himself and made his way downstairs to head back to Grimmauld Place. Ginny yawned and laid her head down on her pillow, facing the cot that she had obviously put out for her friend. Hermione set her bag down and pulled out her pajamas.

"_So_?" Ginny prompted. Hermione pulled her t-shirt over her head and replaced it with her loose sleep shirt.

"So _what_?" Hermione questioned.

Ginny rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh.

"What did George have to say?"

Hermione pulled her loose bottoms on and dumped her bag on the ground, moving to sit cross-legged on her bed.

"Well... he was surprisingly calm. He just said we'd work it all out tomorrow and not to worry about it if I could help it." Ginny grinned at her words.

"I can't believe all this. I mean don't get me wrong, I'm over the moon right now because of Harry, but if this thing is serious, you'll be my sister-in-law!" Ginny squealed, wide grin stretched across her face. "I know there's more to it, all the requirements and stuff, but I can't help just being happy that you'll be my family in name, too. Absolutely mad though."

Hermione grinned back.

"Yeah. I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to be full of more of this. I'm so tired I don't even know what to think right now," Hermione tipped sideways and sighed as her head hit the mattress. "I just can't believe..."

"Things will be easier with George than you think," the redhead's eyes twinkled at Hermione.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione narrowed her own.

"Oh, nothing," Ginny breezed, grinning conspiratorially. Hermione couldn't help but think that Ginny reminded her strongly of the twins when she was obviously sidestepping a question.

As soon as Hermione closed her eyes, she was asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Though Hermione had fallen asleep straight away, she unfortunately got little rest that night. Awakening only a few hours after having gone to bed, Hermione tossed and turned for a short while before deciding that if she could not fall back to sleep, she may as well study that pamphlet in detail.

Hermione cast her eyes over the darkened room, catching only the half-shape of Ginny curled on her bed. Carefully listening for any change in the girl's soft breathing, Hermione quietly rummaged for her friend's dressing gown and tiptoed for the door. After successfully closing it behind herself and shuffling down the stairs to the kitchen, Hermione set the kettle on the stove and lit a flame beneath.

The small kitchen window over the sink was still cracked open from when it had been unrelentingly warm in the day. Now, a small tentative breeze whispered in and Hermione lent against the counter on her elbows, gazing out into the yard with a sigh.

Her brain was beginning to pick up speed now, despite the fog of sleepiness. To add to the effect, her thoughts on this new law were beginning to accelerate as well, and she knew that if left unchecked they would transform into full-on hysteria if she didn't make an effort to calm down and read the damn pamphlet. While last night she had been too shocked to think and feel much other than bewilderment, the few hours of sleep she had had served as enough processing time for her brain to begin to comprehend the craziness of it all and the consequences of the actions of the Ministry and of Percy Weasley. One side of her was distressed over the issue of marriage, babies and the like, while the other side of her completely understood where the Ministry was coming from. The first side was thinking thoughts like, 'I'm going to have to have children', 'what will I do for work?', 'there'll be so many bills to pay', 'engaged to George Weasley', and finally the most obvious, the one Hermione had been resolutely not thinking, try as she may, 'we'll have to have sex'. While these thoughts were all rolling around, they were intermixed with the other side's reasoning of 'perfectly understandable', 'expected decline in magical population', and 'the end of feasible blood discrimination within a single generation'.

And of course, Hermione was well aware that if she had not been put with George, a wizard of pureblood status but considered a blood traitor by elitist purebloods for his family's sympathetic views of muggles and muggleborns, the Ministry would likely have paired her with another pure blood for the fact that she was muggleborn. Considering the situation with purebloods and how they either seemed to be Slytherins, ex-Voldemort supporters, or both, this whole fiasco could have turned out to be much more upsetting for her.

The kettle was emitting the beginning sounds of steam and Hermione twisted the gas off and pulled a mug and a teabag from the cupboard, fixing her brew.

But she could see the point of it all, if she was being honest. If the Ministry paired muggleborns and halfbloods with purebloods, the children of these pairings would be of mixed ancestry. The end result would be that no child of that generation could claim to be a pureblood, which meant that in theory, discrimination by blood would all but cease. This in turn would help ease the conflicts that had still bubbled under the surface in the months since the Dark Lord's death. Even though he was gone, his devout followers were not. While the Ministry had rounded up a great number of them and held trials and sentenced the majority to imprisonment, not all had been caught with enough proof and still enjoyed life in the free world. Considering that they would still be running households and likely raising children of their own, they would surely be passing on their views regarding blood and with them, the intolerance and prejudices that Hermione had faced since her entry into the magical world seven ago. By making a requirement of the law that the matches were intended to mix heritages, the Ministry was doing its best to ensure that these problems eased and would be hopefully kept at bay for the foreseeable future. Surely their ultimate goal would be to weed out these intolerant views for good, but history did have a nasty habit of repeating itself. Hermione supposed they were doing the best they could with what they had at their disposal.

Seating herself at the table in one of the larger chairs, Hermione pulled her legs up and sat cross-legged, tea and pamphlet in front of her.

This was it.

Whatever rules and guidelines herein would be the ones which she would have to follow and mold her life around for the estimable future. It was all very surreal; such a large change to what she had been expecting in her fate in such a small package of information.

Hermione took a hearty mouthful of tea to steel her nerves and flipped the cover open.

When Molly had come down the stairs a time later just as the sun was rising over the yard, she had been unsurprised to see Hermione perched at the table, eyes slowly reading through the decree.

"Tea and breakfast now, dear, or later?" she had asked gently.

"Now, please. I'm ravenous," Hermione gave the mother a thankful smile.

"Studiousness does that," Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Anything to report?"

Hermione set down the parchment beside her empty mug before rubbing her hands over her face and tugging Ginny's robe closer around herself.

"Well, Percy already covered the highlights. Seems like the Ministry is keen on this sticking; I haven't seen any hint of being able to get out of this. For anyone. At least they didn't exclude any Ministry workers from having to abide by this law."

"No," Arthur came down the stairs quietly, "but the Wizengamot is made up of witches and wizards who have long since moved out of that age bracket, so there really was no need to put a loophole like that in there for their sakes; they were safe already." The redhead sat at the table in his spot at the head of the table, next to Hermione. Her gave her a tired but warm grin.

"Good morning, Mr. Weasley," Hermione chirruped.

"Good morning, Hermione. Been up long?"

"Oh, long enough. I couldn't fall back to sleep earlier."

"Ah, I see. Made good use of your time, then?" He nodded to the papers sitting on the table between them. Molly sent two plates with fried egg and tomato with toast floating down in front of the two. The plates were closely followed by cutlery, a fresh pot of tea and two glasses of orange juice. "Any thoughts so far?"

"Just that the Ministry seems to be taking everything into consideration. Of course this pamphlet explains everything in layman's terms and not legal jargon, so I can't really pick it apart sufficiently from this alone but they seem to have thought about everything that could come up in this situation they're orchestrating," Hermione buttered and jammed her toast before nibbling the edge. She had not realized until the smell of the food on her plate had fully assaulted her senses that she was truly starving, if not a little weak feeling from all her fretting and analyzing.

"Such as?" Arthur prompted, adjusting in his chair so he could better face Hermione as opposed to the empty table before them.

"Well," Hermione began, gathering her thoughts with a brief pause, "I know for a fact that the Ministry has instituted other such actions for the continuation of the magical community in at least two other occasions. The reasons then were much the same in essence, war depleting magical communities and of course the war at the time was very much for the same reasons the one we just came out of was. Blood. Those times, the law succeeded in helping the numbers rise again to the point at which the Ministry saw fit to retract the order to enforce it. However, both of those times the order was to _marry_ and procreate. You obviously see the difference."

"Mmm," Arthur chewed pensively. After swallowing, he began again. "Well it certainly will take more work and monitoring on behalf of the Ministry. Not forcing people to marry is a wise idea considering it is a mandatory decree and people at least may be able to see that the Ministry had people's welfare in mind. I don't suppose many will be happy to be told to have children with a Ministry-approved match, but far less would be happy if they had to marry their match."

"Seeing as divorce doesn't really exist in the magical world, yes, I imagine the Ministry will try to lessen the blow that way. Or at least try to get people to see that everything could be much worse. Though I'm positive there will be an uproar, regardless. I can only imagine the amount of owls the Ministry will be receiving today when it all goes public."

"The Prophet will be here shortly which means, yes. Today will be fiasco, I'm sure. I daresay the paper will have some rather opinionated views and gossip about the whole things, particularly our Rita Skeeter," Arthur drained the last of his juice, having finished his tea already. He rose, taking his dishes with him over to the counter and kissed Molly's cheek as she accepted them and dumped them into the sink with the cooking pans. "Thank you dear, that was delicious. Wish me luck, you two! Merlin knows I'll need it."

"Good luck, Mr. Weasley!" Hermione called as he slung a cloak around his shoulders and left for the yard to disapparate. She turned her head to look at Molly. "It is very good." The girl continued with the last of her eggs and tomatoes in a thoughtful silence, considering everything she had read three times this morning. When the Prophet arrived she would also read through that and see where everyone stood. Perhaps she would have a better idea of what she wanted by the time Fred and George appeared for dinner.

When Hermione had finished and chatted with Mrs. Weasley some more, she had excused herself and climbed back up the stairs tiredly. It was still quite early and Ginny was still fast asleep when she had crept back into the room to grab her things and head for the bathroom for a shower.

Soon she was back downstairs with her book and trotting outside to sit in the morning sun with her book. She had decided not think any more about this law for fear of driving herself mad. It would be best to wait until she saw George to figure out between the two of them what was going to work best. She had no idea what he was going to say to her later on today. Did he even find her attractive? No, she wasn't going to think about that. Her stomach flopped around in the depths of her belly.

Thinking back to last night, how he had smiled down at her, and teased her for blushing so hard over him, remembering the pink tinge to his cheeks as he had laughed at her stance then, she conceded that he was handsome, though she had never seriously considered him as a suitor. She had always had a soft spot for Ron even though it was clear now that that would never have worked, regardless of the Ministry's current actions. Ron and she had kissed once, during the final battle, but to Hermione's disappointment the flame seemed to sizzle in the aftermath of the action. Hermione supposed that the tension between them had been growing since they had hit puberty but she had a feeling it had also been closely linked to the pressure of the times as well. It had grown as the danger from the outside world had, a direct result of being forced closer by hard times and war. The climactic final battle of Hogwarts had been their breaking point, but after, as the world had basked in relative peace, Hermione found her mind clearing and wondering why she had ever thought so fervently that her and Ron were meant to be and finally, _finally_, come to terms with the fact that she would never be truly happy with him. Since then, they had fallen back into the routine of being good friends, although they were a bit less predisposed to quarrel over unnecessary things. Ron occasionally let his glances linger just a moment too long, but Hermione ignored them and carried on. She didn't know what she wanted, career or otherwise. It wasn't as if she was on the hunt for a significant other when the Ministry had decided on that for her. She didn't quite see how her and George were going to make the whole 'domestic bliss' thing work but she had nothing to lose.

Except her sanity, she chuckled. Hermione Granger, living with a man who made his fortune on practical jokes and encouraging mayhem and rule-breaking at Hogwarts.

When the sun had risen higher in the sky, Ginny had come trotting out to her friend with a tray of sandwiches and fruit.

"Oi! Mum says you've been up since the crack of dawn! What is _wrong_ with you?" the redhead laughed. She plopped down across from Hermione at the table, setting the tray between them. As she reached for a sandwich, Hermione was once again caught off guard by the ring on her friend's finger.

"That really is a beautiful ring, Gin," Hermione sighed wistfully.

"Isn't it? Harry said it was his grandmother's. The old bird had good taste," Ginny commented good-heartedly.

Ginny held out her hand to Hermione. The ring glittered in the sun of the September day as Hermione admired it. It consisted of a large square diamond set in a platinum band that had other tiny diamonds set into it. Though it was large, it somehow came off as quite delicate.

"What kind of a ring do you think you'll want?" Ginny asked, munching away on the sandwich in her other hand.

"Oh, I'm just going to use one of my mum's old rings. I already told George I would," Hermione selected a wedge of watermelon.

"I'd bet money on him giving you a ring from him." Ginny surveyed her friend's reaction.

"What? No," Hermione brushed off. "Why would he do that? We don't even know what we're going to do about all this yet."

"After, I mean. After you decide to get married."

"Why do you say that?" Hermione was now observing her friend intently.

"Just a feeling." Ginny grinned. "Still want to go down to the lake after lunch?"

It had not escaped Hermione that Ginny had changed the topic of conversation rather smoothly.

The girls had gathered their things and trekked the short walk to the small lake that was on the Weasley's property. Molly had sent them with snacks and the promise to Ginny to send Harry along when he arrived. Ron had left some time that morning to visit with Lavender, who had owled him back this morning. He had sent her a note last night before he had gone to bed, briefly explaining the situation and asking to speak with her today. She had owled back an affirmative and he'd been gone ever since.

The hot sun beat down on the girls and for a few hours they paddled around the lake and laid in the rays of warmth. Ginny was quite keen on tanning but Hermione slathered herself in sunscreen just about every hour.

When they finally made their way back to the Burrow, they were surprised to see Harry, Ron, Fred and George already sitting at the kitchen table, all hunched over letters.

"What are those?" Ginny asked and the boys looked up at the two new arrivals.

Hermione's eyes met George's and she blushed, realizing that this was likely the first time he had seen her in a bathing suit that was not a very covering one-piece. Her suit was a deep purple with wide straps with no risk of flying off during a big jump into the lake. She had piled her damp hair on top of her head a while ago, and it had thankfully dried out already. George smiled at her, eyes sweeping over her and then back to the parchment in his hands quickly.

"Ministry letters," Ron answered.

"Be right back," Hermione's heart thudded in her chest as she walked through to the stairs and clambered up to Ginny's room. She quickly pulled a strap shirt over her head and jean shorts up her legs, not bothering to change out of her suit. She rushed back down to find a letter addressed to her sitting in front of the empty seat across from George.

"It's all so... specific," Ron commented.

"Of course it is," Fred replied.

"I mean like, scientific."

"Yeah, technical," George laughed, his eyes flicking over to watch Hermione tear her letter open and begin reading. "I wouldn't be surprised if I turned to the next page and and found the Ministry-approved step-by-step guide on how to make a baby."

"George!" Mrs. Weasley appeared, basket of clean laundry in hand.

"'The Only Three Positions You'll Ever Need!'" Fred exclaimed, causing the table to laugh uproariously, effectively breaking the ice Hermione had not been aware was there. Her eyes went back to the parchment and flew across the page quickly.

"_Fred!_" Molly set the basket down on the table with a thump and a glare.

"I was only joking mum, keep your hair on," Fred muttered. "Well, that's that then, isn't it?" His palms slapped the scrubbed wooden table with a thwack.

"So what _is_ going on then? Do the girls all have rings, at least until you lot can buy them nice ones?" Ginny questioned, setting her letter down.

"Well I don't know about these dunderheads but I went and bought Ange a ring this morning and proposed this afternoon," Fred gloated, leaning back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head.

"And how did that go?" Hermione inquired, fairly sure she knew the answer already.

"Very well," Fred turned his gaze on her and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. George elbowed his twin, though he was also grinning. "What? Just getting a head start on this baby-making business. You should try it sometime," he quipped, fixing his twin with a pointed look. Though confused at the looks being sent between the twins, Hermione's stomach flipped again at the insinuation.

"Fred Weasley-" Molly started, shaking her head.

"We only have 18 months to make a kid, mum. Not like there's a lot of time to wait around discussing things."

"Let me see that," the matriarch held out her hand for Fred's letter, committing her attention to the text when he handed it over. A few beats passed before she began reading, "By mandate of the Ministry of Magic, it is hereby declared that all witches and wizards of British citizenship in possession of confirmed magical talent shall be matched by the Ministry with a partner for the purposes of propagation. All citizens who are between the ages of 17 and 45 fall within the jurisdiction of this decree. If the witch or wizard comes of age while still attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the law will defer until the witch or wizard graduates. It is a requirement of the law that each pair produce the first child on or before the date exactly 18 months from the time of the passing of this legislation (September 1st, 1998). The date at which 18 months has passed is March 1st, 2000. The matter of marriage is up to the discretion of the partners. However it is to be noted that if the ministry pairs enter into marriage before the passing of 12 months from the time of legislation passing (September 1st, 1999), the Ministry will grant an additional 18 months to the couple to produce their first child. All forms of contraception will be illegal and punishable by law if any citizen is found to have made use of any, magical and muggle alike, regardless of intent to marry or not. All medical costs associated with this legislation will be covered by the Ministry and maternity and paternity tests will be performed upon confirmation of pregnancy by a registered Healer. Enclosed is more in depth information about this statute and contact information for the Maternity Ward at St. Mungo's.

Hoping you are well,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Department of Magical Law Enforcement".

"So Angelina said yes then?" Rod asked when his mother had finished reading out the letter, somewhat aghast.

"Of course," Fred drawled confidently from his seat, hands still laced behind his head.

"Wow," Ron breathed, scratching his ear.

"All hitting you, Ronnie?" George asked, twinkle in his eye. "You might have to marry Lavender Brown?"

Ron scowled.

"I already knew that, you prat."

"Oh Fred, congratulations!" Molly exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her son's shoulders belatedly. "When will we see Angelina?"

"Soon, I expect, considering I told her she should come over for dinner."

Molly fussed and clucked excitedly, setting to work on finishing dinner before Fred's fiancé arrived. She enlisted the help of Ginny and Hermione with setting the table and then the two girls sidled outside to enjoy one of the last warm evenings this year had to offer.

"So, have you thought about things more? Any ideas on what you guys will decide?" Ginny asked, settling into one of the old wooden Adirondack chairs in the grass.

"I've thought more about it, yes, it's sort of impossible not to, but I really don't know what we'll come to tonight. Depends on George, really." Hermione slid into the chair next to her friend, surveying the slowly setting sun in the distance.

"What do you mean?" Ginny quirked her head to the side.

"Well, maybe he doesn't want to marry me? I don't know." Hermione looked down at her bare knees.

"So you want to marry _him_?" Ginny grinned, highly reminiscent of a cat having caught a mouse beneath its paw.

"I - Well - I don't - Ginny, I don't know!" Hermione sputtered, caught off guard.

"Well, let's start somewhere simple then. Do You like George? I mean stop thinking about the law and whatnot. Just, do you like him as a person?"

"Yes," Hermione responded with no hesitation.

"Alright, do you enjoy spending time with him?"

Hermione thought of all the times Fred and George had had her in stitches in the time she had known them. She disregarded the occasions in which she had scolded them about their products and who they chose to test them on, seeing as that didn't really help her here.

"Both of them," Hermione confirmed optimistically.

"Well, that's good seeing as you're not going to get one away from the other for very long," Ginny laughed. "That's good, though. It's somewhere to start. I'm only assuming here that you've never had feelings for George in the past. If you had, this would be _much_ easier."

"No, I never really thought about it to be honest. I don't know why; He's a good person," Hermione trailed off, the faintest of blushes surfacing on her cheeks.

Ginny's eyes grew wide and twinkly as Hermione watched.

"What?" Hermione questioned hesitantly.

"You think he's cute!" Ginny accused and Hermione blanched. "Oh, come on Hermione, it's not the worst thing in the world to be admitting you fancy your fiancé."

"I - well - I suppose..." Hermione mumbled.

"What was that?" Ginny pressed, clearly delighted at the way the conversation was unfolding in front of her.

"I said, I suppose he's quite handsome!" Hermione blushed furiously and waited for her friend's tinkling laugh to subside.

"I don't blame you," Ginny heaved a breath. "They have charm, that's for sure."

Hermione made a noise of acknowledgement and tilted her head back against the chair.

"What am I going to do about this, Ginny? I don't even know what I think about all of this."

"Well, you better figure it out because you have exactly 18 months to make me a niece or nephew," Ginny smirked. "Although I'm starting to believe you'll have less of a problem with that as time goes on."

"Not helping, Ginny," Hermione's stomach was fluttering with nervousness and excitement just from broaching the subject out loud. This was ridiculous; she had never felt this way about George before. Why had this law changed things suddenly?

"Hello, ladies," a voice greeted from behind them. Ginny grinned widely at Hermione before springing up from her seat.

"Hi, " Hermione tried not to squeak in surprise as he approached the two.

"Do you know where Harry is? I forgot to tell him something earlier," Ginny asked George.

"He was in the lounge, last I saw. Excuse me little sister, but I'll be taking over that seat if you're leaving."

"Have fun!" Ginny called as she trotted off in the direction of the house, chuckling to herself.

"Awfully cheery, that one. Usually means she's up to no good," George grinned at Hermione, who hadn't moved in her seat.

"Like someone else I know," she smiled and looked out at the garden again.

"So, I was thinking we should talk about this," George said after a beat. He made to sit down beside her.

"Mhm, I agree. What are your thoughts on things? I mean get married, not get married? What are we going to do?" Hermione rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"Well, I always thought I'd be married before I had kids. What about you?" George replied easily. He was being so... serious. Hermione turned her head to look him in the eye. He was lounged nonchalantly in the Adirondack his sister had just vacated, and Hermione noted that he took up rather a lot more space than Ginny's tiny frame had. His broad shoulders spanned a large portion of the back slats and he stretched his legs out in front of himself. When he crossed his feet at the ankle as he had done the night before, Hermione realized she liked the fact that he did that. It made him look so easily confident with a relaxed grace.

"Yeah, me too. Though I wasn't sure I wanted to have kids," she swallowed, endeavoring to take after his cool openness.

"Unfortunately, this whole legislation has taken that choice from you," George paused. "I don't want to make this sound overly like a business transaction, but getting married would give us an extra chunk of time to sort things out. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not start bringing children into the world when I'm not even sure of things. But we're not against getting married!"

Hermione felt her heart sink. So he didn't like her at all.

"I mean, before we sort things out between us. It's been less than 48 hours since we found out about all this. I'm sure you're having similar feelings," George stated, the questioning look in his eye requesting some sort of answer.

"Yes, very confusing," Hermione replied quietly.

"Do you... What do _you_ want, Hermione?" George blinked at her slowly, running his fingers through his hair.

"I... I don't know. Usually I can figure things out pretty quickly but..." Hermione shook her head.

"Hmmm, okay. I had an idea last night. Can I explain it to you?"

Hermione nodded, and George gave a small nod back.

"Okay, so bear with me. It sounds like we both need a bit of time to sort out how we feel, about this, about each other, everything. So what if we said that in three months or six months or whatever time frame we decide that in that time we gave ourselves, we just get to know one another? Sort of like a twisted form of dating? Seeing as we can't really get out of this," George laughed. "I mean, I know you, but I don't _know_ you. And I'd like to." George held her gaze intently.

What did _that_ mean?

"You want... to know me?" Hermione blushed, confused.

"Well, yeah. I'd rather get on good terms with you in the very least as good friends who happen to have the Ministry breathing down their necks, forcing them into having mind-blowingly fantastic sex for the purposes of baby-making. Hermione, we're in this together," George explained, remarkably serious other than the small smile quirking his lips at her obvious discomfort on the topic.

Hermione's whole body burned at the mention of sex, partially from embarrassment and partially from the awareness of her heartbeat thrumming loudly in her chest from excitement.

"So, I hope you won't be mad," George shifted, "but I got you something. Wasn't sure how this was going to go over." He laughed nervously, flicking his eyes between her and a small box he had pulled from his pocket. "I know you said you already had one we could use but I really want you to have this. Maybe we don't get married, but we're in this together from now on, and that's what this means. It's also a promise." George cracked the box and leaned in closer to Hermione, offering it to her.

Inside the velvet box sat a ring, glimmering softly in the fading sunlight. It was set in an elegant band with filigree detailing that gently curled around an oblong marquis diamond.

"A promise?" Hermione breathed, accepting the box. All of her embarrassment had ceased in the moment she had realized what he was doing. She stared back at him with wide eyes, not fully believing this was happening. She didn't trust her mouth to use any other words to prompt him; her insides were doing handsprings. Even though the man in front of her wasn't hers until last night, she was completely breathless at the idea of 'them'. In the midst of this chaos, he managed to find the right words to simultaneously calm her nerves and light them on fire.

"A promise not to force feelings that aren't there and let them take their own time. A promise to get to know you. A promise to make this work as a couple, in whatever capacity that may be. I promise you that I will always be honest with you about how I feel. So believe the things I say because I won't be lying or exaggerating when I say them; I don't do things I don't want to do," he finished pointedly. "Can you promise me the same thing, Hermione?"

Her brown eyes gazed at him dazedly as the breeze ruffled the hair piled indelicately on top of her head. She felt as if she had possibly melted into a puddle at his feet.

"I'd like nothing better," she replied softly.

George reached over and plucked the box from her hand, wiggled the ring out of its nest and held out his hand for hers.

"May I?" he asked, his voice hushed.

"Of course," Hermione responded, setting her left hand in his gently. His palm was a bit clammy, betraying some nervousness on his part that Hermione was delighted to discover; it meant that she was not the only one.

She held her breath as he slid the dainty ring all the way up her ring finger, letting it settle near her knuckle. Hermione let out a sigh.

"It's beautiful."

"So are you."

Hermione looked up at George through her eyelashes, breath caught in her throat.

"George, you don't have to-"

"I did say that thing about being honest, didn't I?" George's gaze never wavered from hers. Hermione paused, remembering his words from just moments ago.

"Then thank you," Hermione shifted in her seat. Even though she had not chosen this situation for herself, she knew she would treasure these moments for years to come.

"Hermione! George! Dinner!"

"Be there in a mo'!" George turned his head to answer his mother's call. When he turned back he was grinning again, seriousness having receded slightly. "Come on, Granger. A feast beckons." He stood and pulled her up, having not dropped her hand. Hermione stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his lean torso, hugging him close. His own arms fell about her shoulders and he held her to him, resting his head on hers.

"You think we can do this, George?"

"Well, you're an enchantingly beautiful witch with my ring on your finger and I'm a dashingly handsome man with his heart resting in your hands. Just from that I'd say we're going to do splendidly."

Hermione laughed, feeling her neck heat up once again at his remarks, but she brushed it off quickly and pulled away. The two began walking back towards the Burrow, staying close to each other's side.

"So here's a question for you."

"Mmm?"

"Will you go out with me? Tomorrow?" George asked, holding open the screen door for her to pass through into the house.

"I suppose," Hermione sighed, grinning up at him as he followed close behind her.

"After all _that,_ all I get is 'I suppose'?" George chuckled.

"_There_ you are, you two! Here, sit down just there, dinner's just ready now," Molly shuffled them into seats that had been intentionally left empty beside one another.

"Looks delicious, mum," George commented, accepting a dish of roast potatoes from Fred, who was grinning at his twin and twitching his head in Hermione's direction. George grinned and nodded and Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes at the two who had just sat down. When George had finished with the dish quickly, he held it out for Hermione to spoon her potatoes onto her plate. As she did, Mrs. Weasley saw the ring on Hermione's finger and patted her son lovingly on the shoulder.

"Congratulations, you two!"

The table turned in George and Hermione's direction and Ginny squealed.

"I told you!"

Hermione blushed under the eyes of everyone at the table but George just set his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side. Hermione fought her shyness and held up her left hand, exposing it to the view of the table.

A raucous round of congratulations, applause, well-wishes, and pats on the back ensued and Hermione's heart soared. These people were happy she was becoming a part of their family, and she grinned happily.

Dinner passed by amiably after that, the large group chatting amongst themselves merrily. As the customary seconds rounded the table, George placed his hand on her leg and leaned in close to her ear.

"I'm really happy I've got you, Hermione," his voice was low and vulnerable and she looked up at him.

"Me too," she smiled.

"So, dinner tomorrow?" he inquired again.

"Yes, of course," Hermione answered, running her fingertips over her new ring.

"I'll pick you up here at seven?"

Hermione nodded.

As George had said his goodbyes later on that night, he had pulled her into another large hug, pressing his lips to the top of her head and squeezing her tightly. When Hermione had stumbled up the stairs elatedly, she had fumbled through her nightly routine and fallen softly into bed, thanking Merlin that Ginny had not yet returned from her walk with Harry. She yawned tiredly, feeling the effects of having so little sleep the night before catch up with her in one fell swoop.

Having little energy to analyze the happenings of the day, she had slipped quickly into a sound sleep and did not wake even when Ginny had come in and hissed her name through the dark, eager for more information on her friend's new relationship.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hi there! Thanks for the follows and favourites! Don't forget to leave me a review!**


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning found Hermione thankfully more well-rested than she had been the day before. The sun had risen, peeking out from behind a few fluffy clouds as Mrs. Weasley had drawn up a plan of attack for cleaning the house.

"No doubt we'll be having a gaggle of people in the house at all times, what with all these weddings coming up!" she had stated for her reasoning.

"Mum, you don't even know if we're all getting married yet! Besides, look at it outside! It's bloody gorgeous! Why don't we save the cleaning for when it's rotten out? I don't want to organize linen cupboards all day!" Ginny had battled back, red hair swinging.

"Have you seen the state of this house, Ginevra? I'll not have our new family members over with the Burrow like this!"

"What's wrong with it?" Ginny had asked quickly, a determined flush appearing on her cheeks.

"Dust and grime! Whatever will they think if they come over to see all that dust all over the mantle? And the bookcases! And the dust bunnies under the sofa?" Molly had pointed with one hand while the other remained firmly attached to her hip.

"You think they're actually going to look under the sofa? You're mad, mum," Ginny had countered. "Even if they did, they'd probably think we were having too much fun outside in the nice weather to care about dust bunnies! Like normal people!"

Molly had huffed and begun to open her mouth when Hermione had quietly spoken up.

"Why don't we start with just one room today, Ginny? And then we can do another tomorrow, and another... Is that an agreeable idea?" Hermione had shot her friend a look. Ginny had stared right back, but Hermione could see the tension leave her shoulders and her face soften.

"I suppose that wouldn't be too bad. Mum?" Ginny had turned to her mother begrudgingly.

"Yes, that's acceptable. Fantastic idea, Hermione," the woman had sent her a small smile. "But I'll be making a list and you'll be doing every single thing on it including the linen cupboard, you mark my words Ginny Weasley!"

This was how Hermione had found herself to be dusting books in the living room while Ginny had taken all the pillows to be beaten out on the back porch. One by one, Hermione had pulled the tomes off the shelves, running a rag over the top edges lovingly and wiping the shelf off after she had finished. Celestina Warbeck was crooning on the radio in the kitchen, her voice swaying in and out of earshot. Molly was currently at the kitchen table writing an enormous list of chores for Ginny to complete. This meant that Hermione would also be busy, which she had counted as lucky considering not only did she not have a job, she had no idea of what she wanted as a job. Also, she had a date with George tonight and she didn't know what she would do with herself if she had all day to fret and worry about how things would go. Better that she keep busy anyways.

"Hermione, do you mind helping me with this rug?" Ginny was shifting the coffee table off to the side of the room as Hermione set down her cloth. The two girls heaved the rug outside and slung it over the porch fencing. After casting a quick Scourgify charm, they left it and the pillows to air outside while they continued on in the living room. Before returning to the bookcase, Hermione had helped carry all the blankets, throws and doilies from the living room to the laundry room where Molly had set them scrubbing themselves clean. As Hermione had watched, a doily had sloshed itself around in a tub of rinsing water, wrung itself out and sailed out the open window to hang itself over the laundry line in the sun. No matter how many times Hermione had witnessed such magic, she couldn't help but think that life in the world in which she had grown up was vastly different.

Ginny had settled on a small stool she had placed next to the window and she proceeded to dust the knick-knacks on the window sill and wipe down the glass and ledge with her own rag. Hermione crossed behind the sofa and resumed her dusting.

"So I didn't get to talk to you last night. You were conveniently fast asleep when I got in," Ginny looked at her friend, rag passing softly over a small figurine of a deer.

"Well, as you know, I was up at the crack of dawn," Hermione laughed.

"Nutter," Ginny laughed. "So can we talk about this now?"

"About what?"

"You know what!" Ginny pointed at Hermione's hand. "What happened _there_?"

"Oh." Hermione felt her cheeks redden as she replaced another book and shook out the dust cloth.

"'Oh', she says. '_Oh_'. Just 'Oh'. Come _on_, Hermione. Give me more than that!" Ginny pleaded.

"Well, George said some very sweet things and then gave me a ring," Hermione tried to play it cool and keep her voice even. Just thinking about his words last night made her heart jump into her throat, threatening to choke off her words with a hiccup of excitement. "A very nice ring."

"I'll say. What sort of sweet things? Did you guys manage to work something out?" Ginny smiled and replaced the things on the window sill, shifting her stool over to the side table before pulling all the magazines out from the small shelf underneath the tabletop.

"We just talked about whether or not we wanted to get married. He suggested that we... pseudo-date and see how things go for a few months and then decide when some of the chaos has settled over this whole debacle," Hermione moved onto the next bookcase after stretching to replace the last book on the top shelf.

"Oooh, that did need dusting, don't tell mum she was right," Ginny pulled a face as a puff of dust was flung off her rag after she shook it out vigorously. "A few months like two or a few months like six?"

"We didn't really specify, to be honest. He had sort of distracted me," Hermione smiled as the memory of him holding out the velvet box for her to inspect the ring nestled inside of it, speaking his honey words that had dripped and slid all the way to her toes. Looking back, they were not overly romantic, which was appropriate since they hardly loved each other, but they been so honest and from the heart it had seemed like the most romantic thing. It still seemed that way. She had clearly seen the care in his eyes as he had made his promises of honesty in all things. Hermione's joints felt loose and she sunk onto the arm of the sofa, dust rag in hand.

"Oh, sweet Merlin, Hermione," Ginny laughed warmly at her friend from across the room. "I can't imagine what my brother could have possibly said to you to turn you into a melty puddle. I really had no idea you even liked him; I would have tried setting you up earlier!"

Hermione shook the images of George's clear blue-green eyes from her head and looked to Ginny again.

"I didn't! At least, I don't think I did. I don't know..."

"So, you're telling me that all this flustery-blustery is from the last 48 hours?" Ginny pressed.

"Flustery-blustery?" Hermione snorted.

"Yeah," Ginny turned to Hermione, standing and pressing a hand to her chest and tilting her head down. She pinched her cheeks, bringing pink to the surface and fixed a secret smile to her lips. "'I just don't _know_, Ginny!'" The redhead sunk slowly back down to her stool and gave a dramatic sigh.

"I did not do that!" Hermione snapped her cloth down from the shelf with a puff of dust.

"Oh, of course not. My mistake, that's not _swooning_ I see," Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Don't _you_ talk to me about swooning, Mrs. _Potter_!" Hermione laughed at Ginny as her mouth dropped open in feigned shock. "Oh, _Harry_, of _course_ I'll marry you!" Hermione pranced around the sofa, simpering.

"And _I_ don't do _that_! That's a terrible impression of me," Ginny giggled. "Plus, I've loved Harry for a long time; I'm allowed to swoon. What's your excuse?"

"Watch it!" Hermione voiced.

"What are you going to do, tell my brother?" Ginny countered. "Actually, I'm sure he'd love to know how he's rendered you boneless on account of his words."

"Don't you dare!"

"But it's adorable!"

"What's adorable?" Molly had come around the corner to catch their slightly hysterical voices. She looked expectantly between the two.

"Hermione swooning over George," Ginny gave her mum a look and carried on dusting over the fireplace mantle, swiping lovingly over the framed photos perched there.

"I wasn't swooning," Hermione protested.

"I thought we had settled this!" Ginny insisted, laughing.

Molly beamed at Hermione with a knowing look and remained quiet. Hermione guiltily smiled back, turning her head quickly to disguise the ferocious blush creeping up her neck.

"Would you two like some lunch?"

After a quick meal of leftovers that Molly had set out, the girls returned to the living room and agreed to speed through the rest of the cleaning so that they could go into town for some ice cream and a wander.

When they had dusted the remaining surfaces and picture frames, Hermione had levitated the furniture for Ginny so that she could sweep underneath everything, into the farthest corners of the room. As Hermione had magicked furniture polish onto the wooden pieces to make them gleam, Ginny had returned the pillows fresh from outside and they had lugged the rug back to its proper place. With everything back where it ought to be, the two had traipsed upstairs to wash up and change. Bent on enjoying the last of the summer warmth, Hermione pulled on her well-worn jean shorts and a loose leaf-coloured tank. She tried taming her hair back into a ponytail but she was only mildly successful, pieces refusing to lay nicely lest she brush them back and risk creating a frizzy mess. When Ginny had finished piling her long hair on top of her head in a messy bun and tugged a white sundress over her head, the two set out down the hill with a shopping list from Mrs. Weasley.

"So now that we've exhausted talking about me-"

"Hardly," Ginny interjected with an eye-roll. "But carry on."

"-What did you and Harry get up to?" Hermione asked, following Ginny's lead into the produce store.

"Ooooh, Hermione, those things aren't for sharing!" Ginny smirked back at her friend, laughing at Hermione's expression. "I'm only kidding. We mainly just talked about what's going on. A little about setting a date for us. Mostly about my brother's and their pairs though."

"And?"

"Well, Bill's married to Fleur so he's fine; besides, they're already pregnant. Charlie and Alyssa have been together for quite a while so I figure they'll be fine; I've met her a few times and she seems really lovely. You heard Percy, he was going to propose to Penelope before he even knew about the law. Fred and Angelina are... just fine," Ginny laughed. "The only one I'm worried about is Ron."

Hermione grimaced slightly. She had been thinking the very same things.

"Me too," she responded, helping Ginny choose a bag of carrots and moving on to the red peppers. "I feel sort of bad for him being stuck with Lavender. Hopefully he can find a way to make it work with her, for their sake. It's not even that she's that horrible."

Ginny raised her eyebrows at Hermione, holding open a paper bag for the mushrooms Hermione was selecting carefully.

"Well, she isn't. Ron just needs to tell her, nicely, that the baby talk is maddening. I'm sure the war has forced her to grow up a bit anyways."

"Well, we can hope," Ginny laughed.

"She seemed less prone to hysterics when we came back to the castle," Hermione noted seriously, remembering the moments in which herself, Harry and Ron had been snuck back inside Hogwarts through a tunnel to search out Ravenclaw's Lost Diadem. Lavender had seemed a bit harder; they all had. Deatheaters had been instated as staff and Voldemort's reach knew no bounds. Life at Hogwarts last year had been rough on all continuing to attend, including the Gryffindor seventh year. Hermione supposed that most of the older students had taken on the added responsibility of looking out for the younger ones considering they had no idea what might be in store for them otherwise. Thankfully the school had recovered from the final battle with the help of many witches and wizards and even though Hogwarts would never be able to forget what had happened, at least they were all working to make better memories so plentiful as to drown out the bad.

"Mmm, that's true." Ginny set the vegetables on the counter and the muggle woman behind the register smiled kindly and added the totals up. Ginny paid quickly and the girls continued on to the small ice cream shop in the centre of town. Because Ginny spent so much time with Hermione and Harry, she was easily the most comfortable out of her family in the muggle world and as such, usually made the purchases in their town. "She did show quite a lot of courage in the face of Amycus and Alecto. Last year really changed a lot of people so, I suppose that's possible."

"Did you ever get in trouble? I've never really asked." Hermione cast a sideways glance at her friend.

"Hermione, can you really see me sitting quietly on the sidelines?" Ginny scoffed.

"Well, no, but you've never said..."

"You haven't really said much about your time on the run either. I don't know, but I suppose since it's all over now and things are so much better compared to Hogwarts last year, it feels almost like a dream. A bad dream, but a dream," Ginny finished.

"I suppose. It does feel like all that happened in another life." Hermione gazed down at her arm. She had never covered or concealed the scar Bellatrix Lestrange had given her, however no one had ever asked her about it. Bill and Fleur knew most of the story, having been their refuge right after they had escaped Malfoy Manor with the help of Dobby, rest his tiny house-elf soul. Hermione supposed that Luna, Dean and Mr. Ollivander probably had a fairly good idea of what had happened as well but besides Harry and Ron, Hermione had never brought it up with anyone.

"Whenever you want to, you can tell me, you know?" Ginny smiled sadly at Hermione, pushing open the door to the shop. After procuring two scoops of their chosen treat, the two headed outside to sit under one of the umbrellas.

"I know. You can too."

"Well, I don't have any scars that you can see. They only caught me once before I managed to hide in the Room of Requirement with Neville and the others. They were already riled up over something in the news to do with Harry, I can't even remember what. And to add insult to injury I had put myself between a Slytherin seventh year and Hufflepuff first year and so Alecto had taken great pleasure in trying to get information out of me about you, and the Order, the typical questions."

Hermione regarded her friend closely as Ginny paid an overly close amount of attention to the drips of ice cream dribbling down her cone before she swiped them up quickly.

"Oh, Ginny-"

"I wouldn't say a thing, not even that I didn't know. I refused. She used some sort of shocking spell on me until she realized she wasn't going to break me. I think I gave Neville a heart attack when he saw me come through the door. To keep from saying anything I had bitten almost clean through my lip, I had blood from here to Bridgwater." Ginny pinched her bottom lip between forefinger and thumb and pulled it down for Hermione to see. "That's the only scar I have."

Hermione remained silent, the world of peace that she lived in being invaded by painful memories of the past.

"We were captured," she started and swallowed, her throat suddenly feeling as if a pumpkin pasty had taken up lodge and her heartbeat quickened in her chest. "We were captured by Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor. They suspected Harry was Harry and not 'Vernon Dudley'. It got much worse when Bellatrix saw one of the Snatchers holding the sword of Gryffindor. Turns out she thought it had been put in her vault, but the one she had was a duplicate. Anyways, she proceeded to try and torture where we had gotten it from out of me after throwing Harry and Ron in the cellar. She held me down on the floor of this extravagant drawing room and carved this into my skin." Hermione laid her arm out for Ginny to look but she didn't let her gaze leave Hermione's face. After a moment, Ginny smiled widely, leaning back in her chair.

"Does it feel better saying it? Because I feel loads better after telling you about Alecto," Ginny licked her ice cream happily.

Hermione's heart began to slow to a normal pace again and she let a small smile make its way onto her face. Bellatrix was dead and those people couldn't touch her now.

"I suppose it does. I've never told anyone; Harry and Ron just knew without me telling them," Hermione mused, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She would surely have to tell George the story behind the scar at some point, and having voiced it to Ginny first had removed the daunting hesitation.

"I know." Ginny looked rather pleased with herself. "So, Harry and I were thinking we should get married on the anniversary of the final battle. Thoughts?"

Hermione let out a short laugh as Ginny's transition from talk of torture and scars to wedding plans.

"A May wedding would be lovely, I'm sure."

The girls walked a winding path through the small town's main streets before making their way back to the outskirts and up the gentle slope of the hill to the Burrow in the early evening sun.

"So what are you and George doing tonight?"

"He asked me for dinner, but I don't know if he had anything else planned."

"You're going out for dinner with George? That's lovely, dear," Molly spoke up as the girls passed by the kitchen. The matriarch had dinner preparing behind her as she smiled and clasped her hands together in excitement. "He sent this earlier," she handed Hermione a small folded piece of parchment from her apron pocket.

Hermione cracked the seal and opened it up.

_'Hermione,_

_A reminder about dinner at seven, nothing special so just bring your normal beautiful self._

_-George'_

"Beautiful, hmm?" Ginny peeked over Hermione's shoulder and Molly took the bag of vegetables from her daughter's arm to chop up for dinner.

Hermione's cheeks coloured.

"I should go get ready," she mumbled before hopping up the stairs quickly, feeling Ginny's eyes on her back until she rounded the corner of the staircase.

After taking a very quick shower, Hermione had pulled on a white summery skirt and a melon-coloured top. Just as she sat in front of Ginny's mirror, her friend had returned to her bedroom and surveyed Hermione.

"Do you want me to braid your hair?"

"Yes, please," Hermione smiled thankfully at the girl in the mirror.

Ginny set about combing and separating Hermione's hair before twisting the strands together loosely. Pulling her wand out of her pocket, she cast a Drying Charm and Hermione's scalp felt pleasantly warm before cooling quickly, all traces of moisture gone.

"Thanks, Gin," Hermione had remarked, turning her head to the side to survey her friend's work. Even Ginny's deft hands hadn't managed to tame the flyaways around her face but that was nothing new for Hermione.

"No problem. Now you're your normal beautiful self," she smirked, falling back on her bedspread.

"I'm just going to drop my backpack at home, I'll be right back." Hermione had stuffed her things back into the bag and trotted back down the stairs, heading for the garden. After apparating home and dropping her bag on the counter, Hermione had spent a few minutes petting a sleepy Crookshanks before heading back to the Burrow for George. Hermione didn't think he knew where she lived exactly, so it was good of him to suggest he pick her up at his childhood home.

She was just walking back through the garden when she heard the crack of apparition behind her before she was promptly tackled from behind.

"Hermione, love, good to see you!"

"Hello, Fred. Please - air!"

"Oh, sorry," the twin released his hold on the girl and winked at her devilishly.

"Oi, get your own fiancé," came from behind them and George appeared into the frame of Hermione's vision. "Hi."

"Hi," she replied with a smile. "You're early."

"Don't sound so pleased!" Fred remarked as the trio made their way into the house.

"This old dodger wanted to close up sooner than usual," George hooked a thumb in his twin's direction.

"Yeah, _me_," Fred rolled his eyes but didn't elabourate. The three came around the corner into the kitchen to find Ginny, Molly and Arthur already there.

"Boys!" Molly dropped her tea towel to the counter and enveloped the two men in a large hug.

"Hullo, mum," they chorused.

Fred immediately went to join his father and sister at the table, taking an interest in the conversation they had been having. George turned to Hermione.

"Do you want to wait a bit for dinner, or go now?" He cast a sideways glance at his family members perched around the scrubbed wooden table, but none of them gave any indication to have heard his words to Hermione.

"Now's good," Hermione answered, eager to get away from prying ears and potential teasing.

"We'll see you lot later!" George called, shuffling Hermione gently in the direction of the door they had just entered through. A chorus of goodbyes could be heard as the two crossed the back porch and headed for the corner of the property.

"Where are we going?" Hermione questioned, noting that the sun was beginning its decent in the sky earlier now that September had arrived.

"I was thinking the Leaky Cauldron, unless you prefer somewhere else," George offered, scuffing the toe of his trainer against the grass as they came to a halt just outside the wards.

"I do have a craving for some of their fish and chips," Hermione grinned, nodding her affirmative.

George held out his elbow to Hermione with a grin and she let her fingers rest in the crook of his arm, her grip just tight enough to not find herself splinched by Side-Along Apparition.

They landed gracefully in Diagon Alley and started making their way towards the pub. The Alley itself was quite quiet, only a few shops still had lights in their windows as the pair passed by. The pub at the end of the rows of storefronts was still happily bright against the darkening twilight sky. The two entered and George snagged them a small table for two at one of the few remaining open spots.

"I'll go get drinks. Do you know what you'd like?" George regarded Hermione as she sat on a spindly chair.

"Butterbeer, please," she smiled thankfully.

He trotted of to Tom, the barkeep, and returned a minute later with two tall flagons of the frothy brew.

"Fish and chips are on their way," he smiled.

"Thank you," Hermione accepted her mug, sipping some off the top and savouring the taste on her tongue. "So what did you do today, now that business had slowed down?"

"Well, after the craziness of summer Fred and I usually do inventory on the store and Verity talks her way into some time off. Well-deserved, of course," George added. "So she's gone for a few weeks. Ginny's already said to owl her if we end up needing another set of hands for any reason, though I'm not certain we will. We're still filling owl orders but traffic through the store is so slow this time of year. Christmas isn't that far off, though."

"When will you start to see the Christmas crowds?" Hermione blinked at George.

"There's a lull in September and it starts picking up again, to the point of chaos. So we'll have a small breather and then start production for the busy season. There isn't a lot of time between then and now considering how much we have to make. I expect we'll be calling Lee in soon; he's good with production."

Hermione felt excitement bubble tentatively inside her. Contemplating George's response, Hermione decided a small comment would be okay and if he didn't like the idea, he needn't pursue it.

"Well, if you ever need help with anything, you can always owl me, too. I'd be happy to help out if you need an extra person, considering I have no job right now," Hermione said, hoping her comment had come off as nonchalant and in passing.

"Do you have any idea what you want to do? I mean, job-wise. Ministry worker, St. Mungo's Healer, bookshop minder?"

Hermione inwardly sighed in relief as George had picked up on her job situation and not chosen to immediately comment on her offer of assistance, and she laughed at his question.

"Bookshop minder? Why would I ever want to mind a bookshop? Do you even _know_ me? I detest books."

"My apologies. I had forgotten," George grinned and just at that moment Tom had breezed by with stack of plates for hungry customers, sending George and Hermione's down to their table with a wave of his wand.

"Thanks Tom!" George had called as the wizard had whisked away with the magical stack of pub food. He squeezed his lemon wedge over the crispy fish before looking up at Hermione, observing her mirroring his actions.

"Well, to be honest, we could always use a bit of help from the brightest witch of her age."

Hermione blushed and set the squished lemon piece on the edge of her plate.

"Although, I warn you now that the next few weeks are not that exciting, mostly just preparing for the next four months," George continued.

"Alright, well send me an owl next week then if you need me," Hermione smiled, thankful that he seemed in good spirits over accepting her help.

"I will," George took a large bite of fish and chewed, regarding her with bright eyes. "So how long should we give this thing before we decide on the issue of marriage? I don't mean to push but-"

"You're not pushing!" Hermione insisted, swallowing her own bite quickly.

"Either way, I feel like this is something we should agree on right at the beginning," George finished.

"I agree. I was thinking three months, like you suggested last night. I would say six months but then that leaves us with less that three months afterward to... get pregnant if we don't get married, while still leaving enough time so I would give birth before the deadline." Hermione felt a bit uneasy after voicing her opinion; George had not given and indication of agreement or otherwise as she had spoken.

"Well, I have to agree with you. The Weasley's have never been the sort to need a lot of practice, if you know what I mean." He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she laughed, grateful for the comic relief. "But you never know what could go wrong, I suppose."

"So, three months then?" Hermione prompted.

"December 1st?" George confirmed.

Hermione held her hand out over the table for George to grasp and they shook on it.

"I warn you, I am going to knock your socks off. You won't _need_ three months to decide, love," George's voice rumbled lower in his chest than Hermione was used to hearing and she immediately flushed a dark red. George let her ponder his words while the two ate in a companionable silence. A short time later, Hermione was struck with sudden curiosity.

"George, where did you get this ring? It's really quite something."

"I'm glad you like it," George looked up to meet her eyes hastily after she broke the silence. Taking a sip of his butterbeer and setting his cutlery on his empty plate, he continued. "I found it in an antique shop just a few blocks from here, on the muggle side of London. It looked like something you would like." He grinned, clearly impressed with his choice.

"I do, thank you," Hermione looked down at her hand. He had taken the time to get her something she would like, even though he had had less than 24 hours in which to do so.

"You're very welcome." George grinned again and drained his flagon.

Hermione felt the familiar flutter in her stomach and busied herself with finishing the last few bites of her dinner. The two finished and George excused himself to pay while Hermione stepped outside into the dark Alley. After a few moments George rejoined her.

"Thank you for supper, George. It was good to talk a bit more about all of this," Hermione wound her arm through George's when he held it out to her.

"You're welcome. I had a good time." The man ambled back to the apparition point slowly, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Me, too." Hermione laid her head against his shoulder.

"Am I taking you back to the Burrow, or home?" George asked softly, gazing down at the top of her head, brown curls looking like they might escape her braid at any moment.

"Home, please."

"Lead the way, Granger."

Hermione had gripped George's arm a bit more securely and spun on her heal into the pulling darkness of the abyss.

Reappearing in her apartment with the softest of pops, Hermione pulled away from George.

"This is me. It's not much..."

"But it's home," George finished for her. "Erm, Hermione, I just wanted to say that I probably won't see you until Sunday, if you come for dinner at the Burrow. Inventory, like I said."

"That's alright, you've got a business to run."

George beamed and pulled her gently to his chest. He was gazing down at her so intently, she wasn't sure where to look. His eyes were quietly inquisitive, his nose prominent, his five o'clock shadow endearing, and his lips so very close. He leaned down just a bit closer and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. A self-satisfied smile tugged at his mouth, and George turned his cheek and lowered his lips closer to the shell of her ear.

"Don't get too excited. I won't be kissing you until you ask for it." Again his voice was low and Hermione felt it rumble against her own chest lightheadedly. George hugged her a bit tighter, stepped away and grinned cheekily at her. "See you Sunday, Granger."

As he popped away, Hermione was left standing in the middle of her flat with goosebumps so intense they verged on painful.

What was she going to do?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for your feedback so far, glad you guys seem to be enjoying it! Carry on and don't forget to leave me a(nother) review!**

**(Also, I usually stick to the books for facts but the Mudblood scar discussion with Ginny just happened, so I'm going with it. While we're on the subject, obviously Fred is alive, Lavender is alive and I haven't made any reference to George's ear yet because I haven't decided on its status.)**


	4. Chapter 4

Crookshanks was especially happy that Hermione had slept in her own bed for the first time in two days. The night before, he had quickly wedged himself under the covers as she had lain down on her side. Hermione woke the next morning with his fur pressed snuggly into her chest and stomach, his purring gently thrumming against her reassuringly. She tried her best not to jostle the snoozing half-kneazle, reached delicately for her wand on her side table and swished it in the direction of the blinds covering her window. When they opened, they revealed a gray morning; September had truly arrived. With the weather being somewhat uninspiring, Hermione had pulled the blanket back over Crookshanks and herself, snuggling him closer and reflecting on the last few days.

George had dropped her home last night and Hermione grudgingly admitted to herself that not only had she had a rather good time with him, she had thought that was going to kiss her goodnight. The thought of it made blood rush to her face, and a fresh wave of embarrassment washed over her; he had noticed and commented on it in his low rumbly voice, so close to her ear it had given her shivers that she continued to experience occasionally at the memory through the rest of the evening until she had curled up into bed. He had left her standing in the middle of her apartment, Crookshanks winding lovingly around her shins and meowing his elation at her return. Hermione had attempted to distract herself for the remainder of the night, largely unsuccessful. Hermione found she couldn't settle her mind enough to enjoy her book, cup of tea be damned, so she had resorted to spending some time cleaning her apartment without magic. She had hoped that it would tire her out enough so that she wouldn't spend much time lying in bed awake wondering what George was doing, and on this count the manual labour had helped significantly.

Now basking in the rather bleary light of morning, Hermione found herself on a identical train of thought, wondering if George was still ploughing through inventory with Fred or if he had moved onto something else by now. She cast her eyes over her small space. What was she going to do today? Well, grocery shopping was essential; Hermione had discovered that her fridge was quite empty after she had cleaned it out. She also fancied some pumpkin juice, so Diagon Alley was in order at some point as well. Perhaps if she got out of bed and ran all the errands she needed to do, she would work George out of her system.

As if he could read her mind, Crookshanks shuffled under the covers and Hermione pushed them back.

"Good morning! How did you sleep, my love?" she cooed, scratching behind his ear, his fur warm from the heat of the blanket. He purred happily and stretched, flexing his claws and snagging one in the sheet. Hermione unstuck him, slid out of bed and scooped him into her arms before he could react, his movements still sleepy. She stepped over to the window and they both peered outside. The light of mid-morning was remarkably dim in stark comparison to the gorgeously sunny weather England had been experiencing through most of August. However saddened Hermione was to see it go, fall had always held a certain excitement for her; not only was September her birth month but after she had received her Hogwarts letter, fall had been like muggle back-to-school excitement multiplied ten times over. After all, how many children got to go to school in an ancient castle in Scotland where ghosts, house elves, a library full of books to read and Quidditch existed?

Hermione set Crookshanks down on her dresser and he quickly hopped down, still fairly agile in his old age despite the gray speckled patches of fur that had begun to appear. He loudly voiced his hunger and Hermione padded over to fill his dishes as she did every morning and set about brushing her teeth and pulling her hair into a topknot. She donned some comfy clothes for her day of errands; a worn pair of jeans that sat snuggly on her hips, a soft blue camisole, and a long chunky knit cardigan in a light cream colour. She snagged her bag from the coat rack by the front door and made sure she had her wand before slipping into some simple flats and apparating close to a muggle grocery store. She made her rounds, filling her basket with the items she needed, which was a lot considering the sparseness of her cupboards. After the cashier had bagged up her groceries, Hermione paid and shrunk them down once she had turned the corner outside. With everything in one hand, she had walked back the way she had come and disapparated.

Crookshanks greeted this arrival with marginally less frenzy compared to last night as he had curled back into bed and barely lifted his head when she had popped into the room. She returned everything to normal size and put the items away quickly, wanting to get to Diagon Alley for a cup of tea and purchase a few things one could only find in the magical world. Casting an indecisive glance out her window, she noted the sky had begun darkening with the promise of rain. Deciding that she would rather not get caught out in the open shopping district in a downpour, she grabbed her umbrella and left for Diagon Alley.

The Leaky Cauldron was far less occupied than it was last night as she made her way through to the back courtyard and let herself through the brick entry with a few taps of her wand. It had not struck noon yet so the Alley was not all that crowded as Hermione made her way to the cafe nearby.

"What'll you have, dearie?" the lady behind the small counter had asked with a smile as she levitated a few clean teacups back onto the shelf behind her.

"A large cup of Darjeeling, please, and a croissant," Hermione had replied, pulling a few silver sickles from her purse. She dropped the bronze nuts she received as change and an extra few sickles into the tip jar and went to set her bag and umbrella down in a worn leather seat by the window. As with most wizarding shops, it was tiny with seemingly far too much trying to fit into it. Hermione wove her way over to the corner, careful not to tip any small tables over as she skirted around an old wizard twirling his lengthy beard and reading the Prophet. When she returned to her seat with her steaming mug of tea and her pastry, Hermione settled and pulled out a book. Eventually she had made her way through two chapters in her novel, finished her snack and was just enjoying the last of her fragrant tea when a quiet tap on the window pane next to her ear startled her out of her reading. Looking up, she spotted a familiar ginger-haired acquaintance.

Fred gave her a large wave and motioned, silently asking if he should come in to see her. She shook her head and threw her book back in her bag, gathering her things and returning her pink-flowered teacup and plate back to the aging lady she assumed was the owner of the establishment.

"Have a good day, dearie!" she had called as Hermione had quickly made her way outside with a smile and wave.

"Hermione!" Fred had called as she appeared, bell tinkling in the shop behind her as she let the door fall shut. The tall man had pulled her into a warm hug as soon as she was within arm's reach.

"Good morning, Fred! What are you doing away from the shop?"

Fred was dressed haphazardly in dust-smeared jeans and an old Weasley jumper and his hair was rather disheveled. His cheeks were tinged pink and Hermione assumed he had been rushing to his destination when he had spotted her in the tea shop window.

"Oh, I was just on my way to pick up lunch for Georgie and I from the Leaky. Care to join me?" Fred nodded in the direction of the pub she had made her way through not too long ago.

"Sure", she responded and the two turned and started in the direction Fred had been heading just a moment ago.

"What brings you to Diagon Alley this morning?" Fred asked casually.

"Pumpkin juice, mainly. I was just running errands and stopped for some tea for a moment when you spotted me," Hermione tucked her umbrella under her arm, surveying the sky once more. The dark clouds were looming quite ominously, creeping lower and lower in the sky.

"Looks like it's about to start monsooning on us," Fred commented, holding the back door of the pub open for Hermione. "Ah well, at least we had August."

"Mhm, I'm hoping I can finish all my errands before the skies open up," Hermione led the way up the bar.

"Afternoon, Tom! Is the order for 'Weasley' ready?" Fred called to the barkeep. Tom gave Hermione a friendly wave.

"It will be. Give us a sec."

The barman turned and stuck his head through to the kitchens, presumably to tell the cook to pack up Fred's order.

"So what else are you up to this fine day?" Fred leaned against the bar and fixed his gaze on Hermione properly.

"Oh, I think I'll finish up here and head home. I've spent the last few days living out of my backpack in Ginny's room, puzzling out this whole thing with George."

"What's there to puzzle out?" Fred asked, brow furrowed.

"What do you mean? There's plenty to figure out, Fred! Suddenly I've got to decide between marrying your brother now, marrying him later, or not marrying him at all, all why trying to keep in mind that we have to produce offspring in, at most, three years time!" Hermione shook her head.

"And? What's wrong with him? He's a nice-looking bloke, Granger, if I do say so myself," Fred smirked.

"That wasn't what I meant," Hermione raised her eyebrow at the twin firmly but got the distinct impression the flush on her cheeks discredited her fierceness in Fred's eyes.

"So you admit you think he's good-looking then?" Fred's smirk widened.

"I didn't say that either!"

"Ah, but you didn't _not_ say it," Fred laughed. "Here, maybe this is easier to admit; Do you think _I'm _good-looking, Granger?"

"You're so full of yourself," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not answering that, I know when to stop talking."

"I take your silence as '_oh yes, Fred, you're so very handsome and I do indeed fancy your twin, as I can't have you without risk of Angelina flaying me to the very bone_', just so we're clear," Fred baited, putting on his best impression of Hermione's voice.

Hermione was about to open her mouth to comment when Tom appeared with a paper bag and Fred pulled some coin from his pocket, handing it over.

"Cheers, mate!"

The two turned and exited the way they had entered and headed up Diagon Alley to the twin's shop, walking through the still somewhat thin crowd.

"I'm only teasing, Hermione, don't mind me. George might whomp me one for saying anything, but I know he had a good time with you last night, in case that eases your mind at all," Fred's tone took on a slight serious edge, though he remained smiling.

"Oh. Okay. Thank you," Hermione didn't know how to respond to this free flowing information.

"Yeah. He talks about you a lot," the twin laughed, twisting the doorknob to his shop and pushing into the quiet establishment. It was quite surreal to wander into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and have it be empty, bleak light falling through the front windows. Fred noted Hermione's glances around the place.

"Yeah, we're closed for a week or so while we sort this out. Not missing much business," he gestured out at Diagon Alley. "And we still have the Owl Order side going."

Hermione followed Fred back into the store, and he called for his twin.

"Oi, George! I've brought someone to see you!"

"I'm covered in Darkness Powder right now, you git!" George called from upstairs.

"I don't think he wants to see you. Sorry, Hermione," Fred remained standing with his eyes focusing on the second floor banister and he winked at Hermione, a few steps away from him.

"Hermione?" George's head appeared poking over the barrier and he grinned at the sight of her. "Hermione! I didn't think I'd see you until Sunday!" The tall ginger man disappeared again but shuffling could be heard as he made his way down the stairs. He appeared and Hermione saw that he was talking about. He had massive patches and swipes of black coal-coloured residue on his face and arms, and on his jeans where he would have wiped his hands occasionally.

"Well, I was minding my own business having a cup of tea when I was rudely interrupted," she laughed, grinning at Fred.

"Lucky for me," George came to a stop in front of her and Hermione pushed past the comment.

"I'll be back in a mo'," Fred disappeared up the stairs to their flat quickly with a resounding slam of the door.

"So how was your night after I left?" George surveyed the girl in front of him.

"Oh, very nice. Crookshanks seemed quite happy I was home," Hermione grinned.

"I forgot about that savage," George laughed.

"He's not a savage!" Hermione protested indignantly.

"He ate our Extendable Ears! And I woke up once with him chewing on my hair. I mean, I know I'm delicious but that's just ridiculous," George finished with a twinkle of his eye.

"What am I going to do with you two? You're so full of yourselves!" Hermione laughed.

"Oh, do tell, what did my dear brother say?" George inquired.

"Nothing important," Hermione evaded.

"Alright then. What are you doing in Diagon Alley on this fine afternoon?"

"Just running errands. I fancied some pumpkin juice so..."

"So a trip to Sugarplum's was in order, I suppose," George finished, casting a look out the window. "It's pouring out, are you still planning on going?"

Hermione turned. Outside had grown darker with clouds and large fat raindrops were splashing on the window, streaming down and running into the street. How she had not heard the pounding of the falling water before, she didn't know.

"Yeah, I'm here already, aren't I?" She considered her options. "I'll just make a run for it."

"I'll go with you," George suggested hopefully.

"Are you sure? It's really coming down, George."

"I need a shower anyway," George motioned to his blackened clothing and skin and Hermione chuckled.

"You could use one, yeah."

The two started for the door and George held it open for Hermione. The noise increased as they stepped outside and a small river had started flowing down the cobblestones of the Alley. There was only one other person a few shops down dashing through the rain and everyone else had found shelter.

"On three?" George stepped up beside Hermione and laid his hand on her lower back.

"One, two..." Hermione continued, stomach jumping at the contact.

"Three!" George finished with a shout and they took off, Hermione squealing at the cold rain immediately soaking her hair and running in rivulets down her neck.

"Oh no, I left my umbrella on the counter at your shop!" she shouted, dodging a large puddle with loud laughter ripping from her throat.

"Nothing for it now!" George called, a step behind her.

The two raced through the raindrops and Hermione dashed under the cover of Sugarplum's Sweet Shop with George on her heels. He stumbled to keep from tripping over her as she came to a stop, the pair of them soaked through and laughing. Hermione turned to see George shake his hair, sending droplets flying in every direction. He was dripping from his chin, his fingertips, his shirt, and his eyebrows. She could only imagine the state she was in.

"Oh no, it didn't work!" Hermione reached for a particularly large black smear on George's arm, rubbing it with her thumb and trying to remove it. It didn't budge. George just laughed and shuffled after her into the shop.

Sugarplum's was technically a candy shop but they also carried fan favourites like drinks as well, and Hermione wove her way through the people to the shelves of non-candy merchandise. Nestled between a stack of Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties she found a flat of the orange-coloured drink she desired.

"Don't fancy anything else?" George stood at Hermione's shoulder.

"Just this," Hermione nodded, grabbing one of the larger bottles offered. The two made their way up to the register trying to avoid dripping all over displays or other customers. Hermione quickly handed over a galleon and stuffed her change into the wet pocket before stowing the bottle in her bag, noting that she would have to dry everything out when she got home as there was a small lake in the bottom waiting for her. Water squelched between Hermione's toes in her flats as the two made their way back out the door and huddled under the overhang. The wind had picked up and Hermione was instantly chilled as the breeze whipped the warmth away from her body thanks to the moisture clinging to every bit of her.

"I'll run you to the apparition point!" George called over the wind, squinting down at Hermione's form. His shirt was clinging to his chest and his jeans were heavy with water, slightly dragging on the ground around his trainers.

"You don't have to!" Hermione motioned vaguely to the extreme weather.

"C'mon!" George cocked his head in the direction they ought to go and ignored her protest.

Hermione took a large gulp of air and ducked her head down, sprinting for the alcove off Diagon Alley where it was safe to apparate and disapparate from. Hermione had not realized how close George was to her side until a flash of lightning followed immediately by the loudest crack of thunder she had ever heard caused her to falter and his strong arm quickly snaked around her waist to hold her upright. Hermione's heart positively hammered in her chest as the two continued, George's hand never leaving her back after her near tumble. Hermione dashed into the recess in storefronts and turned, out of breath and slopping water everywhere.

Both George and Hermione's clothes and hair were plastered to their bodies, and George was grinning at her widely. Above them, lightning fractured through the clouds once more and Hermione turned her face skyward to observe its pattern. As the thunder cracked again and rumbled the brick around them, George swept Hermione up in his arms, grabbed a hand in his, and spun her in a circle. The wind continued to blow the rain at the harshly, stinging Hermione's skin but she laughed as he twirled her out of his arms.

"Go! Get out of here!" he shouted, rain streaming down his face. Not one single bit of him remained dry and Hermione felt exactly the same about her own condition.

"See you Sunday!" Hermione called, wrapping her arms around herself and disapparating inaudibly. Concentrating hard, she reappeared in her bathroom, the silence deafening in the sudden absence of thunder. She dropped her bag into the sink, emptied her pockets onto the counter and stripped and tugged her soaked clothing off, leaving everything on the floor.

A hot shower later, Hermione padded out of the washroom in her fluffy robe, warmed through after the chill of the storm had left her shaking and frozen. A small owl tapped on the window at the sight of her and Hermione rushed to let him in out of the rain. Pigwidgeon hopped in from the window sill and hooted his greeting at Crookshanks, who only twitched an ear. Hermione removed the scroll from his tiny leg and scooped him up, holding his shaking body to hers, warming him up as she opened a kitchen cupboard and pulled out a small bag of owl treats.

"There you go, Pig," she said to the tiny owl, setting out a few niblets for him on the counter and letting him at it. He squawked and chirruped his happiness before crunching quietly.

Returning to the note the little owl had delivered, Hermione opened it quickly.

'_Hermione,_

_Mum is driving me mental. Please say you'll come over and keep me company tomorrow. You don't have to clean anything, I swear!_

_Ginny_'

Hermione snorted and fetched a quill.

'_Gin,_

_See you at eleven._'

When Pig had finished chasing the last crumbs around on Hermione's countertop she had secured the scroll back to Pig's leg and let him out the window back into the rain. He blew several feet to the left in the wind before righting himself and flapping ferociously in the direction of the Burrow.

After putting the glass bottle of pumpkin juice in the fridge, Hermione set out to get her laundry going on the kitchen counter. One side of the sink was filled with hot soapy water, the other clear hot water and she placed a well-aimed heating charm on her laundry basket, seeing as she didn't have a laundry line and gorgeous weather to dry her clothes. When the garments had started moving, Hermione had curled up in her reading chair with a blanket and book and didn't budge from her spot.

Night came quickly to the girl who was immersed in imaginary worlds, storm thrashing against her window well after dark. Hermione climbed into bed and shuffled a malcontent Crookshanks around, curling around his warm toasty body and fall asleep to the sounds of the first rainstorm of autumn and remembering the feel of George's arms around her as he had danced with her in the heavy raindrops.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for all the messages, comments, favourites, and follows! **

**Keep on letting me know what you think. **

**Happy Monday!**


	5. Chapter 5

The storm had blown itself out overnight and Hermione had slept in until the last possible second before having to leave for the Burrow. The girl had showered and rummaged through the still faintly warm laundry basket sitting on the kitchen counter before deciding on her favourite worn jeans, a plain green tee shirt and a large cozy sweater. Since she would doubtlessly be helping Ginny with her chore list, she really didn't feel like wearing anything other than her comfortable clothes, not that it would have been a problem anyhow. The Weasleys were the last sort of people to judge you by what you wore. Hermione made her bed and ruffled Crookshanks' fur despite his annoyed look and set out for her home away from home.

As she walked over the sodden grass of the front yard, her sneakers squeaked on the wet blades and she scraped the mud from the soles of her shoes with the bottom step of the porch. The storm had soaked everything and she very much thought that the garden gnomes had oceanfront property at the moment, provided they hadn't drowned in the deluge. Everything was wet through and Hermione drew a deep breath, inhaling the strong scent of fresh clean air and outdoors. She pulled open the screen door pushed into the house.

"Knock knock!" she called to the deserted back hallway. She toed her shoes off leaving them amongst the wellies crowded around the coat rack and made her way through the empty living room and rounded into the kitchen.

"Hello, Hermione dear," Molly poked her head out of the kitchen pantry with a smile. "Wasn't expecting to see you today!"

"Morning, Mrs. Weasley. Ginny owled yesterday and asked me to come keep her company," Hermione smiled and the woman disappeared from view for a moment before reappearing, wiping her hands on her apron.

"All right, as long as you're not doing all her work for her. Tea? I'm sure Ginny would love it if you brought her some too. She's up cleaning Percy's old room right now." Molly set down a tray with a teapot, two teacups and a few biscuits on it.

"Sure, I'll take it up," Hermione answered.

"I'll have lunch ready a little later. Any requests?" Molly disappeared around the door frame of the pantry again.

"Everything you make is delicious, Mrs. Weasley!" Hermione called, mounting the steps with the tray of tea.

"Oh, you flatter me so!" Molly's muffled reply floated after her.

Hermione climbed past the second floor with Ginny's door standing open and made her way up to the third floor where the twin's old room was shut tightly, preventing any unsuspecting victims from wandering in and suffering an unfortunate disfigurement. The room directly across from theirs was Percy's before he had moved out, and the door stood wide open. Ginny was shaking a blanket out through one open window over the bed and humming along to the music playing on the wireless that she had relocated to keep herself company until Hermione arrived.

"Hello, Gin," Hermione entered, setting the tray down carefully on the small desk that sat sandwiched between two bookcases. The small window above it was also open and a glance out to the back garden confirmed no gnome activity.

"Morning, Hermione! Good thing you're here, I'd go mental with mum puttering along behind me. She's really got herself all worked up over this whole thing." Ginny happily poured the two girls a steaming cup of tea and they sat cross legged on the bare mattress with the plate of cookies between them.

"How's your morning so far?" Hermione crunched into one.

"I started with the bathroom. I do not know what boys do in there but I tell you, they'll be the ones cleaning it next time," Ginny grimaced, blowing gently on her brew. "What did you get up to yesterday?"

"Oh, just ran errands. Bit of shopping, you know," Hermione grinned.

"Since when do you grin at a 'bit of shopping'?" Ginny inquired, eyebrow raised.

"Since I ran into Fred and George in Diagon Alley," Hermione laughed.

"Ooooh, and?" Ginny prompted.

"George ran me over to the sweet shop up the way and then to the apparition point during the storm. I'm pretty sure we came within a knut's distance from being struck by lightening."

"You got caught in the rain?" Ginny smiled wistfully. "Did you kiss?"

"No!" Hermione flapped her hand at the girl.

"Then what?" Ginny asked exasperatedly.

"It's nothing. We just danced a bit," Hermione's voice lowered. "It was nice."

Ginny grinned and took a large bite of biscuit followed by an equally large gulp of cooling tea.

"Interesting. He's being awfully... _nice_ about all this, hmm?" Ginny remarked slowly.

"Well, I suppose. How else would he be?"

"Well, it just strikes me as odd behaviour from George to be so... accommodating. I mean, he hasn't pranked you, or... I dunno, he's just going along with this all rather smoothly."

"I guess," Hermione's brow furrowed, sincerely hoping he wasn't going to prank her, although she couldn't rule it out. He was after all, George Weasley, half of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"_I_ think he likes you," she followed up, making Hermione blush.

"I don't thinks so, Gin."

"Why not? He can't like you?" Ginny demanded.

"No, he could, I just don't think he does."

"What's not to like?" Ginny continued.

"I don't know, I just don't think I'm his type," Hermione shifted.

"You think intelligent, pretty, and caring aren't his type?"

"Ginny..."

"Don't Ginny me."

"Well, has he said anything to you about it?"

"No, not exactly-"

"Well, there you go. You're just reading into things," Hermione calmed.

"Maybe so, but I still think you ought to note how he treats you. If I can't convince you, maybe his actions will," Ginny sighed.

"What actions?" Hermione snorted.

"He wasn't upset when he found out what Percy did, I mean _at all_. He got you that nice ring when he didn't have to and you didn't expect him to. He said those '_sweet things_' to you that made you all melty. He willingly accompanied you out into a storm to do errands," Ginny listed.

"He was just being nice!"

"Do you believe that?" Ginny asked pointedly.

"Yes! Yes," Hermione shook her head.

"What? What is it?"

"I believe that he's just being nice, but..." Hermione trailed off, losing steam. "But I hope against my better judgement that he likes me, just a teeny bit."

Ginny snorted indignantly.

"Yeah, we'll see."

Silence fell between the girls for a moment as each sipped their tea.

"So how's Harry?" Hermione asked.

"He's good. He was over yesterday, helping Mum mend a leak in the kitchen window. He fixed the crooked sill too! Using a muggle hanner and everything," Ginny sighed faintly, swooning and leaning against the wall with an exaggerated look of pleasure on her face.

"It's a _hammer_," Hermione laughed loudly, never tiring of magical folk's inability to remember the names of common muggle items.

"Whatever, he's dead shaggable when he carries that thing around," Ginny smirked, polishing off her tea in one more gulp. "Let me just finish with this room and then we can maybe do something, not cleaning."

"Alright, what do you have left?" Hermione reloaded the tray.

"Just dusting the bookshelves, and getting those cobwebs up there," Ginny pointed to the ceiling in one of the corners.

"I'll take this down and grab the broom." Hermione hopped down the stairs and set the tea tray back on the counter. Molly turned from the sink.

"Just what she needed, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione reached for the broom that was leaning against the wall by the stairs.

"Just where do you think you're going with that?" Molly scolded facetiously, shaking her head and smiling. "I told you not to help her!"

"Just getting the cobwebs! She can't reach them!" Hermione phibbed quickly, dashing back up the stairs with a laugh.

"Whatever will I do with you, Hermione Granger?" Molly chuckled quietly, listening to Hermione's socked feet on the stairs. "Marry you into the family, I shouldn't wonder."

After returning to Ginny, the girls flipped the wireless back on in the middle of a song by The Hobgoblins and Hermione brushed the dusty cobwebs down from the corners and swept all the dust bunnies from under the bed. Ginny finished up with the bookshelves, shaking her rag free of dust out the open window occasionally, pulling faces. Hermione again magicked furniture polish onto the dull wood surfaces, making them gleam as if they had put a significant amount of elbow grease in to making them look that way.

"Thanks for helping me, Hermione. You didn't have to," Ginny finished smoothing the fresh sheets and blanket over the mattress.

"She says, _after_ we're done," Hermione laughed, dusting her hands off. "I'm only kidding, I know. But what was I supposed to do? Watch you suffer?"

"Yes! Sat back and pointed out all the spots I'd missed." Ginny let her hair out of its ponytail and the girls made a detour to her room on the way down. Hermione sat on her bed while the girl changed into clean clothes and quickly washed her face in the bathroom before they resumed their decent. Hermione returned the broom to its place in the kitchen and Molly reappeared once more.

"Lunch is just about on the table girls. I was thinking I might go to Diagon Alley this afternoon. Did you want to come along?"

Ginny cast a sideways glance at Hermione before answering.

"No, I think Hermione's had her share of it this week," she said, laughing. The two girls sat at the table and Ginny picked up a quill, pulling the chore list towards her. "I've finished the bathroom and Hermione helped with Percy's old room, mum." She crossed those tasks off the list as she spoke them.

"Thank you, Ginny," the mother responded, "and Hermione, even though you shouldn't have."

"It's _my_ home, too," Hermione grinned and Molly fluttered about the kitchen, putting lunch on the table.

Over turkey sandwiches and fall squash soup, Ginny decided Hermione would need a pretty dress for her birthday party and insisted they go and look for one tomorrow afternoon. Hermione reluctantly agreed, thinking of her closet and how she had gotten rid of everything but her functional clothes before Harry, Ron and her had left last summer. She couldn't justify taking dresses with her while running from Snatchers and searching for Voldemort; the only formal clothing she had was the lilac dress she wore to Bill and Fleur's wedding last summer, and only because they had had to leave mid-reception in the middle of a whirlwind of action. The girls lounged around all afternoon, enjoying the quiet of the Friday afternoon.

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><p>The next morning found Hermione helping Ginny clean out Bill and Charlie's old room, much the same as they had been doing up until that point. With all linens clean, pillows fluffed and grime banished, the girls had quickly had lunch with Molly, Arthur, Ron and Harry before taking off into muggle London so that Ginny could coerce Hermione into trying on far too many garments and likely spending too much money.<p>

"Oh, this one. And this one," the redhead girl was pulling hangers off racks in a small boutique a few blocks from the entrance to Diagon Alley. "And try them with these."

"I don't need earrings," Hermione trundled along behind her friend, accepting the dresses and adding them to the ones already slung over her forearm.

"Yes, you do. You need these ones," Ginny continued onto the other side of the rack, dangly earrings in hand.

"Do I have to try all of these on?" Hermione whinged.

"Yes," Ginny answered quite bluntly, clearly not interested in pursuing this line of conversation.

"_Why_?"

"Why not?"

"Because..."

"Exactly. Will you try those on now? I want to see!"

Hermione sighed and walked into the small changing room at the back of the store while Ginny perched on a stool waiting outside. Ginny had chosen all the dresses in this batch, and Hermione noted that she probably would not have looked twice at most of them herself, but her friend had insisted. There was one she did quite like; it was white with large blue flower print and that one she was eager to try on.

Hermione started with a simple green dress and Ginny immediately nixed that one when Hermione drew back the curtain. She moved onto a grey printed wrap dress that Ginny was on the fence about. Next was a light yellow skater dress, which Hermione did not like at all and refused to even exit the change room in. She pulled the blue flower dress on; it was strapless and fitted at the top down to her waist and then flared out to her knees. It was rather retro-feeling apart from the fact that the sweetheart neckline had a slit in the middle that exposed a sliver of breastbone down to her sternum. As Hermione looked back at herself over her shoulder, she had to admit the dress was quite flattering in both cut and colour.

"I like this last one."

"Go on then, let's see."

Hermione drew back the curtain and Ginny beamed, rustling her imaginary feathers.

"You look fantastic. That's the one, Hermione."

Hermione met her friend's eyes shyly with a quirk of her lips.

"You think so?"

"I _know_ so," Ginny stressed, nodded for extra emphasis.

"Alright," Hermione grinned back.

"Give us a twirl!" Ginny prompted with a chirrup and bounce in her seat and Hermione obliged. "Oh, you slay me so with your beauty, fair maiden. My poor brother shall have not a chance," she declared pompously, sounding rather like Percy had done when he was writing reports on cauldron bottom thicknesses in her fourth year.

Hermione hopped back into the change room and redressed in her own clothing and stuffed her feet back into her sneakers. After bringing her purchase up to the front counter, the muggle girl running the till had bagging it up for her and they were on their way again.

"So your birthday's two Saturday's from now and mum's already informed me there will be a lunch at the Burrow in your honour. Sounds like she's invited everyone round, just as a warning. I know you hate big to-do's but you'll get to wear your new dress and look fantastic!" Ginny spoke the first part quickly and quietly, finishing with a hopeful rise of her voice at the end, brilliant smile in place. "Plus, you'll have a date this year!"

Hermione's stomach jumped. Did George even know when her birthday was?

* * *

><p>Sunday morning rolled in and the sun was desperately trying to peek through the clouds, only occasionally successful. Though it didn't manage for more than a few minutes at a time, Hermione noted that at least the clouds were still white-ish and not sitting low on the horizon like great gray balloons, waiting for the perfect moment to split open and release the rain. After a nice lie in, Hermione dressed in her trusty jeans and a white long sleeve tee with one of her father's old flannels tied loosely around her hips in case she got chilly. She clomped about in her boots tugging her gray beanie on and making sure she had her wand before disapparating to the Burrow.<p>

She remarked to herself that she had spent more time here with her pseudo-family in the last week than she had since spending summers here during school. The chickens scattered at her appearance in the yard and she made her way to the porch. Seeing as it was late in the morning, she wasn't surprised to find a pile of footwear at the back door, and she left her rain boots amongst everyone else's shoes. Hermione closed the backdoor tightly after her and made her way down the hall in her fuzzy socks turning the corner to find a large group of Weasleys in the sitting room.

There was a clamor of greetings for her and she grinned happily, surveying the gathering. Arthur had taken apart what looked like a muggle clock and Harry was attempting to explain the inner workings to him. Bill looked rather harried, catering to Fleur who had her feet up on an automan and a fierce glare fixed on her husband. Ginny, Ron, Fred and George were in the middle of a game of Exploding Snap and it looked like Ron was dangerously close to singeing off his eyebrows completely, to the joy of the others. George met Hermione's gaze and she felt herself mirroring his wide smile. Ginny pulled her gaze from her brother as she approached Hermione and pulled her into a hug.

"I like this," Ginny pulled back and motioned to Hermione vaguely. "I like what you have going on here. I approve."

Hermione tucked some hair behind her ear and adjusted her beanie slightly.

"Oh, thank you."

"Tea? I think mum was just about to set lunch out."

Ginny turned and made way for George to get to her, smile quirked on his lips.

"You look awfully dry," he commented, hands in his jean pockets. Hermione laughed and nodded.

"So do you. Thank you for running me home, George. You must have been swimming by the time you made it back to the shop."

George just smiled back at her and they followed after Ginny into the kitchen.

"Hermione! Lovely, lovely. Lunch is ready!" Mrs. Weasley called to the family at large.

Everyone sat and passed around turkey sandwiches, potato salad and iced tea. Conversation was easy; Hermione found herself split between chatting with Ginny about her wedding to Harry and talking to Fred and George about their shop. Mid-bite, the table was interrupted by a large silver patronus whisping into the kitchen and everyone froze at the sight of the lynx.

"_Ministry inspection in two minutes_."

Molly and Arthur looked at each other in silence for a moment before directing everyone.

"Ron, go to Lavender's right now, they may go there just after they finish here; be ready." Ron shoved his chair back and took off for the back door, the crack of him apparating drowned out by the shuffling of everyone else. "Fred, go get Angelina, they'll be here when you get back, we'll pretend you're just late for lunch." Fred followed after Ron quickly, shoving the last corner of his sandwich in his mouth as he went. Arthur was magicking all the food back into the kitchen and cleaning up the table, setting it with clean plates and cutlery. "Ginny and Harry, go play Exploding Snap! Hermione and George, go do... I don't know, Hermione and George things!"

Bill and Fleur disappeared upstairs, making themselves scarce. George pushed his chair in and tugged Hermione by the hand into the sitting room after Harry and Ginny, who had thrown themselves down near where the cards lay abandoned.

"What do we do?!" Hermione breathed, pulling her hand from George's.

He reached his long form over the back of the sofa and grabbed a random book from the shelf there, tossing it to Hermione as he settled calmly into the corner seat.

"Here!" He patted the cushion beside him and relaxed into the couch, lifting a foot and resting his ankle on the opposite knee. Hermione slid in next to him and George wrapped his arm around her middle and pulled her back against his chest quickly. Ginny and Harry shared a look and Hermione ignored them and lifted her feet up, stretching out in the remaining space. She had cracked the book to a random page and George had just conjured some important looking paperwork with the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes logo stamped on the header as a crack could be heard from the yard.

All four occupants of the sitting room looked between each other before Ginny flicked her wand at the wireless and her and Harry quickly shuffled the cards and began a hasty round of Exploding Snap.

A knock sounded at the front door and Molly called, "Come in!" as if she hadn't expected it, rather convincingly.

George's arm still held her firm to his chest, snaked under her arm and wrapped snuggly, palm pressed into her stomach. Hermione tamped down her blush as much as possible and crossed her ankles.

"Oh, Minister! How nice to see you again!" Molly's voice floated in from the front door.

"Hello, Molly, Arthur. Apologies for dropping in on you suddenly-"

"Oh, nonsense! We were just about to sit down for lunch! Would you like to sit with us?"

"Oh, we really can't, we have so many more to see today!" an unknown female voice responded.

"Please come in, Minister, Madam Hopkirk," Arthur's voice could be heard. "Is there anything we can get you?"

"Oh, we would just like to have a word with a few of your kids," Kingsley's tenor reverberated closer to the sitting room. The towering man came into view followed closely by a small brown-haired woman.

"Hello, Minister!" Harry jumped up from his game, shaking the man's large hand enthusiastically.

"Harry, my boy, good to see you again! And this must be your youngest, Arthur," Kingsley winked at Ginny and the girl grinned.

"Yes, that's Ginevra," Molly and Arthur followed them back into the house.

"Pleasure to meet you, Minister," Ginny shook hands with Kingsley as well. Mafalda Hopkirk shook Harry's hand before following with Ginny's.

"The pleasure's all mine, my dear."

Hermione made a point to mark her page in the book before closing it and rising from beside George, offering a hand to pull him up behind her. He accepted and wove his fingers with hers after he stood tall at her shoulder.

"Minister," George held out his hand for the fellow Order member.

"Pardon me, but are you Fred or George?" Kingsley laughed. "I've never had the pleasure of meeting you or your brother in the past for reference, not that it would help me any now."

"I'm George, sir, and this is Hermione Granger," George smiled down at the witch in his arms.

"Lovely to meet you my dear. This is Mafalda Hopkirk of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Nice to meet you, Madam," Hermione held out her hand and the woman shook it firmly with a pleasant smile on her face.

"So, what can we do for you today, Minister?" Harry piped up from behind the two ministry workers, drawing their attention once more.

"Ah, yes, we are just here to check up on some engagements and get the paperwork sorted. It shouldn't take long at all, just a few minutes with the two of us, nothing strenuous. Why don't we start with you and Ginny, unless there are any objections," Kingsley cast his eyes amongst the foursome. "Molly, could we use the kitchen table?"

"Of course, Minister, just through here..."

Harry and Ginny exchanged a look and followed after the officials, thanking Merlin that the Minister himself had seen fit to accompany Madam Hopkirk to the Weasley residence that afternoon. Ginny threw a look at George and tapped her ear before disappearing into the kitchen. George fumbled in his pocket with a soft "_oh!_"before pulling out an Extendible Ear and sending it off after Ginny.

"Here, here," he whispered, tilting his head down to Hermione's level.

"_Right, so it's fairly simple, we just have a few questions for you two. How long have you been together now?_" Mafalda's voice echoed through the ear.

"_About two and a half years_," Ginny responded.

"_And when did you get engaged_?"

"_August 31st, actually. The others were already engaged and Percy, my brother, heard about needing to be registered and put us down too_."

"_And why was that?_"

"_I had spoken to Percy and the rest of the Weasleys months ago about proposing to Ginny, so he knew I already had a ring for her. When he told us all about registering us, I immediately popped the question_."

"_How quick-thinking of him. And you plan on marriage?_"

"_Oh, yes,_" Ginny breathed, and Hermione suppressed a giggle at the girl's valiant stab at acting.

"_Fantastic. If you do not marry within the year, you will be paired to someone else by the Ministry as others have been_."

"_Oh! Well that's no worry for us_," Harry responded to the woman's remark, and Hermione and George glanced at each other. So that was what it came down to; Marrying George before next September or being separated. The Ministry didn't do things by half these days, did they?

"_Do you have a wedding date set already?_"

"_Oh, not in stone but we were thinking the anniversary of the Final Battle_."

"_May 2nd would be a poignant date for you two_," Mafalda shuffled her papers. "_Right that's all we need. Can you please send in Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley?_"

Ginny and Harry came around the corner a moment later and Ginny took the Ear from George's hand and pushed him in the direction of the kitchen from which she had just come.

"You too, go!" she nudged Hermione. "Good luck!" She held up crossed fingers. and Harry mirrored the same from just behind her.

George and Hermione shuffled around the corner and were met with the smiling faces of Kingsley and Mafalda.

"Alright, if you two would just sit down, we can get through this quickly. It's just a formality, really," Mafalda smiled at the two as they sat across from her and the Minister.

"Of course. What did you need?"

"How long have you been together?" Kingsley's low baritone asked, twinkle in his eye aimed for George.

"Oh, around three years I suppose? It was before George left school," Hermione hoped her answer was convincing.

"Mhm, and when did you get engaged?"

"August 1st. I remember because it was the day after Harry's birthday," George answered smoothly and squeezed Hermione's hand in his gently under the table.

"Perfect. Have you set a date for the wedding yet?"

"Not yet, but I like summer," Hermione smiled up at George, hoping they were pulling this off. Madame Hopkirk seemed quite unsuspicious of them, and so she supposed it was working.

"Alright. I've told the other two as well, you must marry within a year or the Ministry will reassign you to another pair. When you have a date decided, please send and owl to the Ministry so we can add it to our records and keep from bothering you. Unless you have any questions, that's it for us, just a quick check."

"We'll send it to you as soon as possible, Madam."

"Excellent. If you'll excuse us, we must be going," the two rose from the table and shook Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's hands. "If you could have your other children pop in to see me this week sometime, that would be lovely. Thank you for the offer of lunch, Mrs. Weasley, I'm sorry we cannot stay longer." Madam Hopkirk was making for the door followed by Kingsley.

With a wave and a sly wink to the group who followed them out to the porch, Minister Shacklebolt and Mafalda Hopkirk were gone.

"Whew. And Fred isn't even back yet!"

"That was quick."

"Can we finish lunch now, mum?"

Bill and Fleur had reappeared and settled in the kitchen again, Fleur struggling to adjust her growing belly. The group sat back down at the table, and their plates from earlier reappeared with a swish of Arthur's wand. With refills to iced teas they finished up their lunch in contemplative silence.

"Well, I guess Fred, Ron, Percy and Charlie will get a little more warning. They can have answers for the questions before they go in-"

A crack sounded and Fred and Angelina came rushing through the door in a flurry of body parts, jackets and boots.

"We're here, sorry we're late! Got caught up in Diagon Al- Oh. Have they left already?" Fred stopped when he realised it was just the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione at the table, rather silent.

"Yes. Quick visit, that was. Mafalda What's-her-name said to stop by her office this week," George took a large bite of another sandwich.

"Well, hello regardless!" Angelina called out and Hermione grinned and waved. Angelina was greeting and had a plate of food thrust upon her before a minute was up. Throwing herself into the empty seat beside Hermione, the older girl grinned and chewed furiously.

"I am so hungry! It was a good job Fred came to get me when he did."

"What were you up to?"

"I was at work," Angelina replied and took a long draught of iced tea.

"What is it you do now?" Hermione inquired. She had always admired the older woman for her single-minded dedication she had used with the Gryffindor Quidditch Team and she imagined she applied that to whatever job she had to do.

"Oh, I stress-test prototypes for Cleensweep," Angelina nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear and finally leaning back in her chair and munching much more slowly on her lunch now that her hunger had been somewhat sated.

"Wow!" Hermione remarked. "What does that entail? That must be so fascinating to test the inner workings of such complex magic!"

"I guess you could say that," Angelina laughed. "You never were a word economist, were you? Oh, no I don't mean that in a bad way!" Angelina backtracked when she saw the look on Hermione's face. "I just mean you make me think about why I actually love doing what I do instead of just loving it blindly."

Hermione laughed and sighed.

"I do use a lot of words though."

"That's not a bad thing. But what I do is just take the models they're prototyping, fly them, put them through the tests. Like flying through storm wind speeds, testing in rain, stuff like that. I just basically try to push the limits of the broom's capabilities and report back to the manufacturers so that they know what's working and what's not and they can better assess where they need to make adjustments based on what the market demand is," Angelina's longer answer was punctuated with sips of tea.

"As I said, fascinating!" Hermione grinned.

Plates and cups were soon whisked away and Fred left to take Angelina back to work since they had missed the check-in and would have to go into the Ministry during the week.

"Would you like to finish your book now?" George appeared at her side after she had finished wiping the table down for Molly and Hermione laughed.

"Well, seeing as you tossed Magical Me at me, no. I don't fancy even pretending to read about the fantastically overblown life and exaggerated lies of Gilderoy Lockhart. Again."

"Didn't you used to have a crush on him?" George inquired, leaning casually against the kitchen island as Hermione passed him on her way to the sink. She blushed and shook her head a bit.

"I _knew_ it! I knew you did."

When she had turned she found that George had already had his gaze fixed on her, twinkling and intense.

"Oh, please, I wasn't the only one."

"I didn't say you were," George laughed at her expression. "On another note, which is exactly the same as the first note coincidentally, did you want to keep me company on the couch again?"

Hermione blinked.

"Sure, just give me a second. I know I left a book in Ginny's room..." she hopped up the stairs and out of George's sight quickly.

When she returned downstairs, George was already back in his previous spot. The papers of his had been vanished and he had a book cracked and balanced on his knee.

"You? _Reading?_" Hermione settled beside him and he tugged her closer yet again.

"I read," George responded quite seriously. "Although I've always wondered what this doo-dad is?" He shifted the tome so that Hermione could see and pointed to a character.

"Oh, the exclamation point?" Hermione laughed. "I can see why that one gave you trouble."

"Tricky little blighter. So mysterious!"

"Where's Harry and Ginny?" Hermione cracked her book and cast a suspicious glance around the empty sitting room.

"Out in the orchard shagging, I expect," was George's nonchalant response and he perused his book once more.

"Hmm," Hermione nodded. There was no use in commenting for two reasons; George wouldn't be shamed into taking it back, and it was probably true.

The two read rather quietly and by the time Molly came through with afternoon tea, Hermione had fallen asleep leaning into George's side and Harry and Ginny had returned to their game.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hello! It was a longer wait for an update this time, apologies! Life etc.**

**Leave me a review!**


	6. Chapter 6

"Hermione! Post arrived for you!"

Hermione was standing atop a ladder at the top of the staircase just outside of Ron's room when Ginny called up to her. As she leaned over the bannister with a hand braced against the wall, Hermione glimpsed a sliver of her friend's face six floors down.

"For _me_?" she questioned, frowning.

"Well it's got _your_ name on it!" Ginny laughed and disappeared once more, her voice echoing up to Hermione distantly. "Did you need another rag too?"

"Oh, yes please!" Hermione called down before righting herself.

She was perched on the ladder in order to reach the highest parts in the Burrow's rafters that were not in the attic with the ghoul. Broom and rag in hand, she beat the cobwebs and dust into submission. The window on that level was open to aid in the task but it seemed to Hermione that it may just be causing the falling grime to be blown into her face rather a lot. Hermione heard Ginny's feet on the stairs and continued taking great swipes at the roof. A gust of autumn wind sent a puff of dust her way yet again and she gave a great sudden sneeze, one she felt from the bottom of her lungs. She clasped the rung of the ladder a bit tighter and rubbed her tickling nose with the backside of her forearm.

"Bless you!"

A familiar voice much deeper than expected startled her and Hermione jumped, ladder shifting rather more than seemed wise.

"_Professor Lupin_! You scared me!"

"And you, me! Have you forgotten that you are a witch or do you just enjoy manual labour?"

Hermione stepped down and laughed, thankful to put her feet back on solid house for a moment. Remus Lupin stood on the top landing with her, looking much too young for his age aside from a few old scars on his face. Fatherhood was doing him good, clearly.

"I cast a cushioning charm on the floorboards! Besides, I have nothing better to do than banish dust mites at the moment," Hermione grinned and set down her rag on a rung. "What brings you here today?"

"Well, I came to ask Molly about a remedy or aid for teething. Teddy is having a bit of a rough time these days," Remus grimaced, conveying the agony his son must be going through at cutting teeth.

"_Already_?"

"Five months now, hard to believe," Remus grinned again.

"My goodness, time flies," Hermione leaned a hip against the bannister.

"Speaking of flying, Ginny sent this up with me to say hello. She said it was important you get it," Remus held out an envelope scrawled with '_Hermione_' and she took it, curious as to its contents.

"Thank you, Remus. I do hope Molly has something for Teddy," Hermione flicked her nail under the seal and popped the wax open.

"I daresay you will be needing the same remedy before too long," he muttered.

Hermione was distracted with sliding the parchment out of the package. She unfolded the correspondence and glanced first to see who it was signed from. An equally scrawled '_George_' was near the bottom of the page. Surprise must have registered on her face for Remus commented.

"I hope it is not _bad_ news?"

"Oh, I doubt that, it's from George. I'm just surprised to see a whole page here; he's more of the bullet-point type," she commented with a flush and tucked the refolded paper into her back pocket. "I'll read it later," she flashed him a quick smile.

"I better get back downstairs. Molly was elbow deep in the garden when I arrived but she said she would be along in a shake to educate me on the matter of teething. Let me not tempt her wrath by keeping her waiting," he joked and turned, making his way down the first flight of steps. "Dora, Teddy and I will be seeing you next weekend at your party!"

"Say hello to Tonks for me! And Teddy!" she called after him. She glanced back up at her task with a moue before deciding to take a break and read the letter from George in peace and quiet. She pulled it from her pocket and settled on the top step, turning to lean her back against the wall and bending one knee up onto the top step with her.

'_Hermione,_

_I sent Abe to the Burrow as I'm fairly sure you must still be toiling away with Ginny in cleaning every inch of the house. Good luck with Ron's room, he's a right pig in comparison to the rest of the us. Actually, don't touch anything of his if you can help it. For your own safety._

_I'm just writing to ask you out on a date tomorrow night, a proper one. Not running into you at the Burrow or in Diagon Alley or with family around. Just us. Let me know if this works for you. If so, I'll pick you up from yours around eight. I won't be telling you where we'll be going but if I were you, I would wear some comfy warm clothes._

_The week has been rather dull without you._

_As always,_

_George_

_Hint: If you have already cleaned our old room and have not found what I left under my mattress for you, I guarantee you will enjoy this sort of surprise. I swear it's not spelled, charmed or cursed in any way!_

_Warning: Don't touch anything else in there, whatever you do!_'

Hermione quirked her lips into a smile. A date _and _a surprise?

Ginny's feet clambered up the last flight of steps and she appeared on the landing below Hermione, blowing her bangs out of her face with a puff.

"Hard at work, I see," she laughed and Hermione rose, skipping down the steps that Ginny had just climbed. "Oi, where you going? I've only just got back!"

"George has something for me! He hid it under his mattress," Hermione called and Ginny hopped after her.

"Is that a treasure map?!"

"No, it's just a hint!" Hermione laughed, pushing the twin's door in. She was greeted with a wall of boxes with various labels on them, and dust motes floating past the light coming in the window.

"There's a reason we don't clean in here. What if it's a prank?!"

"He says it's not!" Hermione stopped and looked between the beds. "Which one is George's?"

"On your own head be it," she pointed and Hermione lifted the mattress, exposing a small silver and purple treat. Reaching for it slowly, she snatched it up when contact with her skin didn't make her break out in boils, feathers or slime.

"Ohhh, my favourite!" she squealed and bounced.

"Honeyduke's best? Lucky lady," Ginny laughed at Hermione's reaction to a bar of chocolate.

"Mmm, and he's asked for a date tomorrow night," Hermione responded and they made their way back out of the room and up to the top landing again.

"Oh, well, he does know how to get a '_yes_', doesn't he?" Ginny vaguely referenced the chocolate bar Hermione had set on the top step for later. "Did he say what he has planned?"

"No," Hermione climbed the ladder to finish the rafters as Ginny dusted the window and cleaned the glass. "He just said to wear warm clothes. Any idea what that means?"

"That it'll be cold?" Ginny's tinkling laugh echoed down to the bottom floor.

"Girls! Remus is leaving now!" Molly called up to them.

"Goodbye, Professor Lupin!" Hermione and Ginny called in unison. Though the werewolf had not been their teacher at Hogwarts for four years, the habit was hard to break. Being the intellectual that he was, his appearance and demeanor didn't easily lend a hand to changing that title in their minds. While the younger generation had been attending Hogwarts in the last few years he had always lent a hand if they needed help with holiday homework. If Hermione had ever initiated a debate or conversation over a technique or theory, he had always been glad to participate. He had given her plenty of tips and additional reading suggestions over the years, expanding her knowledge even further. Being best friends with two boys who were never too concerned over achieving high marks but always seemed to need information regurgitated in order to save their lives meant that Hermione was at her best when she had every piece of knowledge possible; you never knew what Harry and Ron (and later Dumbledore's Army) was going to get themselves into. Remus had always supported her views, opinions, and thirst for education and enlightenment and for that she would be forever grateful.

"See you next week!" he called, thanking Molly profusely for her insights.

The two girls continued working their way down to the ground floor, switching jobs when they encountered the bane of Ginny's existence, the linen cupboard. Hermione pulled everything out and restacked it on the shelves according to category while Ginny carried on dusting and sweeping to the landing below. The pile of dust and dirt was growing exponentially as the neared the bottom and Hermione wondered what Mrs. Weasley's reaction would be when she saw it.

"Oh, that is disgusting!" her answer came not a minute later. The mother vanished it with a wave of her wand. "Are all the windows open, dear?"

"Yes, mum," Ginny answered, climbing up one floor to help Hermione put away the neat stacks of cloth.

"Alright, brace yourselves!"

Hermione heard the woman prop open the front and back door and she turned a questioning look to Ginny who didn't manage to answer her before an almighty stream of chilly wind was funneled up through the stairs. The windows creaked on their hinges and props and Ginny tittered at Hermione's surprise. Their hair whipped around their faces like they were speeding down a motorway in a convertible top car.

"All done!" Molly called once the wind had settled again. "Close them up, please!"

Ginny bounded up to where they had started this morning and latched all the window panes shut again.

"Whew, how refreshing!" she commented at Hermione's disheveled state with a chuckle and Hermione reluctantly grimaced back. "Let's go downstairs; Mum's made stew and it smells delicious."

After a short lunch, Hermione wrote back to George.

'_George,_

_You are correct; We did the staircase today. Thank god it's done now._

_Eight o'clock sounds lovely. Warm clothes, hmmm? You better not be thinking of taking me flying because if that's the case, you'll end up dateless._

_Thank you for the chocolate, I'm just about to go eat it. Ginny keeps sending me longing looks but I'm not sure I'll share with her, no matter how painful her expression._

_Impatiently yours,_

_Hermione_'

The two girls lounged about it the sitting room and Hermione read her book, as per usual. While she munched on the chocolate bar George had hidden away for her, Ginny grudgingly set up with her many books and tall stack of notes.

"What will you work on today?" Hermione inquired quietly.

"Charms, I think," Ginny rummaged for a decent quill and pulled the parchment closer to her.

This September 1st, Ginny would have been entering her seventh year, and Hermione would have just finished hers. Since Hermione had been on the run with Harry and Ron hunting horcruxes and deciphering Voldemort's mind, she had obviously missed out on the lessons of her seventh year. As Ginny and many others had hid in the castle in the Room of Requirement for lengths of time, they also had missed chunks of schooling. Headmaster McGonagall had made the decision to allow anyone to challenge the end of year exams so that they did not have to repeat the schooling they may or may not have been through already from the previous school year. To Hermione's knowledge, most of the younger grades were opting to just take the year over, but the sixth and seventh years were more unpredictable in their choices. Hermione, for her indispensable roll in the downfall of Lord Voldemort, had been offered an honorary certificate of completion from Hogwarts. She had accepted it but then taken the exams in June with a handful of other seventh years, notably Ravenclaws. She had studied for the month beforehand, accepting the help of McGonagall herself and also Lupin and Flitwick. There had been no need in the end; She had passed with flying colours and a hearty round of applause from the NEWT examinators. Ginny had taken her sixth year exams and passed with great grades as well, and she was now challenging seventh year NEWTs. Molly and Arthur had been shocked at her decision not to return to Hogwarts for her last year, but the girl had made a valid argument. It would never be the same, she wouldn't be happy there, she had changed and grown out of needing Hogwarts, the list had been quite long. In the end, they had come around to see her points and had granted her permission to study from home as long as she worked hard. She had started over the summer and was making great headway into the work with the help from Hermione and the rest of her brothers and a few old Order members. Ginny was currently trying to finish the work before the end of December so that should could take the exams then, otherwise she would have to wait until June since they only took place twice a year.

Hermione had thought that rather ambitious of the girl, but if anyone had the determination to make it happen, it was Ginny. Harry and Ron had just accepted the honorary certificates and called it square. Since they were both moving on into the Auror Academy which commenced in January, they would be caught up in no time.

* * *

><p>A clear day had dawned on Saturday morning for the first time since the storm had come and later on, as Hermione had rushed around getting ready for her date, the bright evening light was streaming in the open blinds. It was past seven and the sun was beginning its descent in the sky and Hermione was trying very hard not to let her nerves get to her. The weather section of the Daily Prophet had said that the evening would be clear and warm as long as the sun was still up, but that it would get chilly once the darkness had settled in for the night. Hermione took this to mean to bundle up; the last thing she wanted to do was freeze to death tonight.<p>

She had settled on some thick gray leggings, a long plaid button-up that came down to brush her thighs, a cable-knit pull over that was almost as long and her green army jacket. Hoping this was enough layers, Hermione had left her curly hair down and wrapped a scarf around her neck and was just zipping her dark brown boots over her calves when George had appeared at her front door.

"George!" Hermione hand flew to her heart at the sudden _pop_ of his arrival. "You scared me!"

"_Hermione! _You _stun_ me!" George grinned mirroring her actions except he was holding a bouquet of flowers when he did it, the crinkling of cellophane attracting the immediate attention of Crookshanks. He instantly jumped from Hermione's reading chair to wind himself around George's ankles and meow loudly. "Hello, Beast."

"He's not a beast. He's a kneazle, and only half of one at that," Hermione moved closer to George with a smile. "Are those for me?" she asked hopefully.

"No, I brought them for _him_," George motioned to the half-cat with the bouquet, prompting another round of meows. "He obviously appreciates it." He took a few steps forward, and offered them to Hermione with a wide grin and twinkling eyes. "Of course they're for you. I seem to recall you mentioning some time ago that you liked lilies?"

"I love them," she breathed, accepting the stems from George, brushing his hand gently as she did so. "Thank you!" Hermione took a long sniff of the pink and white flowers, summoning a vase from one of the lower cupboards in the kitchen.

"My pleasure. I see you took the suggestion of 'warm' quite seriously," George's voice danced with humour.

"I didn't know what we were doing! I didn't want to get cold," she blushed, arranging the flowers before moving to set them on her dresser under the window.

"I'd never let you freeze, Hermione."

Hermione turned and met his earnest gaze and her blush deepened, but he didn't break it and neither did she. as slow smiles spread on both of their faces, Hermione insides were twisting and tumbling over and she felt like maybe her stomach had jumped into her throat and blood was pumping too fast for her lungs to draw enough breath. Finally, George spoke.

"Shall we go then?" he shifted and for the first time, Hermione noticed he was carrying a small basket. He was wearing jeans and sneakers, a Quidditch jersey and an old jacket with his other hand tucked into the jacket pocket. He extended his bent arm and Hermione rounded her bed to take it firmly with hers.

After squeezing through the small tube that was apparition, Hermione landed firmly on a solid grass hill overlooking an empty grassy pasture with a cropping of trees in the distance.

"Where are we?" she asked quietly, looking up at George.

"Well, those trees there, on the other side is the orchard, and then the Burrow," he pointed. The sun was nearing the horizon, throwing the whole view into pink and golden relief, casting longer and longer shadows across the pasture, reaching for them on the sunny hillside. Looking down the hill, Hermione saw that there was the remnants of a fire pit with some logs sat around it. George took a step and extended his hand for her to grasp as they made their way down the small hill. Hermione let his warm hand envelope hers and pull her gently along behind him.

"So, I've brought a picnic and stuff for s'mores. Although I haven't magicked any of it, I'm not sure it'll be edible, so please don't hold it against me," George laughed. "I'm rubbish at food, just blame mum for never letting Fred and I into the kitchen for fear of risking anyone's life."

"Alright," Hermione laughed.

George pulled her over to one of the logs and set down the basket gently. From inside of his pocket he produced a shrunken bundle of kindling and firewood and his wand. He set to work and soon there was a fire crackling in the pit, flames dancing and reaching up into the darkening night before them.

"Hungry?" George settled beside her and opened up the basket. From it, he pulled some sandwiches, fruit, and a bottle of the very same pumpkin juice they had run through a storm for the week before.

"Yes, starved."

He turned and threw a leg over the log, facing Hermione fully and settling the food out between them. Hermione adjusted and did the same, facing him and accepting a cup of pumpkin juice and balancing it against her leg to keep it from tumbling to the dirt.

"So, we should talk about the news we got from Kingsley when he visited the Burrow," George brought up.

"Yes, well, now we know that if we haven't married after a year, they'll void the engagement and assign us to different matches. So we can't stay engaged for the rest of our lives. We have to decide, I suppose, if it's something we want to do."

"Do you still want to give it until December?" George flicked his eyes from the plate of sandwiches he was selecting from up to her face.

"Well, it's only three months right? I think we should keep going with the plan and then see where that gets us. Does that suit you?"

George grinned and nodded.

"It was a good plan, if I do say so myself."

Hermione laughed and chewed her dinner.

"So, we should do typical date stuff if we're giving this a go, do you agree?" George pressed.

"Well, yes, I suppose. If it doesn't include you pranking me in any way," Hermione regarded him skeptically.

"Prank-free zone," he commented, motioning to the space between them ambiguously.

"Alright. What did you have in mind?" Hermione shifted.

"What is... you favourite colour?" he questioned, laughing.

"Purple, you?" Hermione smirked.

"How about instead of just answering cheesy date questions, you guess first what the other person's answer will be?" George suggested, clearly thinking this back and forth might be painful.

"Yes, alright, that seems better. You answer the colour question and I'll think of another one to ask."

"Magenta," he confirmed her thoughts.

"Oooh, I thought so! Okay, favourite subject in school? No wait, best subject and favourite subject. I think you did best in... Charms, but you enjoyed... Transfiguration most?" Hermione ended on a high note.

"One out of two, I'm afraid. Off to a mediocre start, Granger. I _was_ best in Charms, but I enjoyed Potions most, aside from the slimy git teaching it."

"Oh! That does come as a surprise," Hermione was taken aback.

"And you, your best subject was... Everything, can I say everything?"

Hermione laughed and shook her head and popped a strawberry into her mouth.

"Alright, I'll go with best in Transfiguration and liked Ancient Runes the most." The note of finality in his voice spoke to his confidence on the matter.

"Right in one, bully for you! He takes an early lead with two points!" Hermione chuckled and George looked rather puffed at his good guess.

"Alright, let's see. Favourite Task in the Triwizard Tournament? To watch I mean, if Harry's life hadn't always been in danger at every turn. I think you liked the maze best."

Hermione thought for a moment before nodding.

"I suppose you're right. I've never really thought about it. And yours would be the dragon, I think," she nodded again at her choice.

"You came through that time, yeah. Dragons all the way," he paused for a gulp of juice.

"Okay, favourite and most-hated teacher. I'm going to say yours were McGonagall and Umbridge, respectively," Hermione stated with a scratch to her nose. She unwound the scarf from her neck, realizing it wasn't quite cold enough for it yet, especially with the fire so near. "Can we switch? I'm burning up on one side," she laughed, rubbing the very warm fabric covering her thigh closest to the crackling fire.

"Yeah, go on," George jumped up rather spryly, stretching as he did so. His jersey rose, exposing just an inch or so of skin, but Hermione snatched it up and whisked it away into her memory, savouring his trim waist and light scattering of hair from bellybutton down. They traded seats and Hermione was thankful that it was dark enough that he wouldn't likely notice the blush scorching her neck and cheeks at the action.

"Yes, two more points to Granger! Good guesses, McGonagall was the tough one but she did end up being the best. You know she owled us after we left? Wished us luck and told us not to be dolts and to make it work because she hadn't met any team of pranksters so good at creating laughs other than the Marauders. Actually wished us well and told us to let her know if she could help us in any way with setting up shop! Right Gryffindor, that one. And Umbridge, I don't think I need to say anything about her... Yours, favourite is Lupin and despised is also Umbridge."

"How did you know?" Hermione laughed.

"Well you still call Lupin '_Professor_' so unless you have some sort of naughty fantasy including him, you and a teacher's desk-"

"I just have a healthy respect for authority!" Hermione objected, still laughing.

"Sure, that's what all the goody-goodies say but I can just tell these things, Hermione, best not to deny it," George winked. "And Umbridge because she didn't let you show off and earn extra house points."

"_No! _It's because she wouldn't let us do practical learning!" she protested and paused. "And I suppose the house point thing as well."

"There we go, _truth! _And how about favourite shop to visit in Hogsmeade? Easy, Tomes and Scrolls, I'm sure of it," George rocked slightly in his seat, taunting grin in place.

"Wrong! Ha! I've fooled you, haven't I? My guilty pleasure is Honeydukes! I thought you knew since you sent the chocolate for me... Did you say the wrong answer just to let me have a win?" Hermione accused, laughing with a suspicious look.

"Perhaps, but you'll never know. Your guess now," George offered the container of fruit to Hermione before starting to pack up their leftovers.

"Three Broomsticks for you," she answered simply.

"Not going to guess Zonko's?" he continued, pulling out the fixings for s'mores. Hermione was quite pleased with his selection of dessert tonight as she hadn't had s'mores since she last camped with her parents years ago, but she did thoroughly enjoy them. Plus it was one of the few times her dentist parents had allowed her sweets to the point of bursting.

"No, I think that's the too-obvious choice. I stick by my answer."

"Correct. It reminded me of home while we were at school. Not a lot of people know this but I would get pretty bad homesickness from time to time, even up until we left." George's face suddenly reflected less confidence and more vulnerability, something which Hermione didn't think she'd often seen.

"It's okay. I got homesick too, even though Hogwarts amazed me at every single turn, and still does when I go back. Actually, I think the first few months at Hogwarts were some of the worst times I had in my entire life, including the hunt for horcruxes. " Hermione patted his knee and smiled gently. "I was absolutely swept away at the prospect of magic and learning something completely new but I didn't know anyone, I was a muggleborn and I had trouble making friends because I'm not necessarily and easy person to like. I missed the familiarity of home and my parents ferociously, almost to the point of being debilitating. But I had to prove I could do it. So I did."

"What about now?" George asked delicately.

"Well, I still miss them, of course. I haven't gone to find them yet, since there are still Death Eaters out there who would love to get their hands on them just to hurt me. So for now, I think it's safer to leave them be in Australia, out of harm's way. But I understand; most of the time I'm okay, but when I miss them, I miss them terribly and whole-heartedly. Nothing by half-measures for me," Hermione smiled, refusing to let any sadness show in her gaze.

George nodded silently.

"Is it s'mores time now?" Hermione eased into less intense conversation, feeling like they had surmounted a significant milestone.

"Absolutely. That sort of honesty deserves roasted marshmallows and melted chocolate like nothing else," George smiled, handing her a mallow roasting stick and setting the bag of white puffs between them.

"Excellent," she skewered one and dangled it over the fire as George did the same. "Do you mind if we talk a bit about future stuff?"

"No, no, that's probably a good thing. Any questions you've got, shoot," George responded sincerely.

"Well, did you want to get married ever?"

"I just assumed I would. Coming from a big family, I already knew I wanted one too, maybe not as big, but still. And for me, I'd rather be married. My parents have always been together and I can't imagine it any other way."

"Me too. My parents are so good together; I wanted to be just like them when I grew up. And I'm an only child, so I knew I wanted more than one, certainly," Hermione finished.

"Where do you want to live? Here in England? In a city, or more like here in Ottery St. Catchpole?" George enquired.

"Well, I grew up in London, so I do love the city but commuting is not really a problem for us, is it?" Hermione grinned.

"No, you're right. Do you ever forget you're a witch sometimes? And do things the muggle way not because you want to but because it slips your mind that you have a wand?" George was quite curious to the answer of this question, clearly finding it rather amusing.

"Yes, I do," Hermione barked out a laugh of her own, pressing her crispy marshmallow between two graham crackers with a square of the same type of chocolate George had hinted her to yesterday. "I forget with cleaning pots and pans that I don't have to scrub so hard. When I climb into bed after a long day and forget to turn off the kitchen light beforehand, I forget that I don't have to get up again if my wand it near. This one time in first year though, when Harry, Ron and I were down getting the Philosopher's Stone, we were being strangled by some Devil's Snare and we were obviously panicking and I was trying to remember how to kill it," Hermione was in fits by this point and George was hanging on her every word, eyebrows in his hairline, "And they wouldn't stop yelling. I finally remembered that light and heat will kill it and, if you can believe this, Harry said, '_So light a fire!_' and I yelled, '_Yes, but there's no wood!_'. At that point," she heaved a breath, "Ron blew a gasket and he yells, no he bellows, he bellows, '_HAVE YOU GONE MAD? ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?_' and I think that was the last time I forgot when it truly mattered."

George roared with laugher, the sound of it rolling over the empty pasture and out into the darkness around them.

"I can just see it! Oh, Ron's such a hot-head sometimes, I can just - my god, '_there's no WOOD_', oh Hermione - you are just fantastic."

Hermione grinned and crunched into her dessert with a large bite.

"Fank 'oo."

It was heavenly, and Hermione groaned. George gave her a chocolaty grin and they devoured a number of the treats each before packing up and putting the fire out finally.

"Home again, home again?" he asked and they climbed the slope again, looking over the dark landscape.

"Jiggity-jig," Hermione confirmed with a nod, curls bouncing in the chilly air.

George clasped her eager hand in his and they apparated back to her apartment. Hermione let go and turned her bedside lamp on, casting a muted glow over her small apartment.

"Thank you, George, it was really wonderful." Hermione's wide eyes met his and she smiled.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I had a really good time tonight," George closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around her, making her feel even more small next to his height. His nose nuzzled her hair softly, and she could have sworn that with her ear pressed to his chest firmly she heard a quiet rumbling in his chest. Insides now warm syrup, she didn't pull away and hoped he would hold her for the rest of the night. But after a lengthy hug, he released her and stepped backwards, basket swinging gently.

"Sweet dreams, Hermione," he uttered lowly.

"Goodnight, George," she responded quietly.

And he was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please excuse any small mistakes, I cranked this out rather quickly and I will fix them in time.**

**I was just too excited for so much dialogue between Hermione and George to stop myself posting asap.**

**As always, leave me a review!**


	7. Chapter 7

After spending a lovely Saturday evening with George, Hermione waded through Sunday and Monday in a haze of daydreaming, blank staring while reading, and humming songs she had heard her mother sing ever since she could remember. She was absolutely the least productive she had been since Viktor had invited her to the Yule Ball in fourth year, and she laughed at herself every time she realized she had been staring with glazed eyes at the bouquet of flowers sitting on her dresser for ten minutes straight. Crookshanks reveled in her company, climbing her and making himself comfortable at every opportunity, no matter how odd the body part he settled on.

On Tuesday morning, Hermione felt it might be best if she got herself out of the house. After dressing quickly in her gray leggings, a full aubergine skirt that fell above her knees with a casual white tee tucked in, Hermione considered her options.

Ginny was cracking away at her work this week, she had told Hermione so the last time she had seen her on Sunday at dinner. The redhead had said that if she worked tirelessly all week, she would not have any problems spending Hermione's birthday with her with no thoughts of homework.

Ron was with Lavender most days, attempting to deal with their new relationship accordingly.

She thought of maybe asking George if he wanted to do something, but she wasn't sure if that was wise, considering her state of distraction over the last two days. A bit of space might set her head a little more firmly back on her shoulders.

Harry! She hadn't spent much time with Harry recently. Perhaps since Ginny was busy he would be free today.

Resolving her decision, Hermione piled her hair messily on top of her head, sticking a few hair grips in to hold it there. Fetching her leather jacket and her bag, she snatched her wand up from the kitchen counter and donned her sneakers. Apparating to the top step of Grimmauld Place, she cracked the front door and slipped into the front hall.

She entered quietly more out of habit than anything else because as soon as Harry had defeated Voldemort and set things proper with Ginny and grieved the losses of the magical community, he had returned the Grimmauld Place a determined man. Carting a fireman's axe in the front door, Mrs. Black's portrait had been quickly silenced once and for all. Harry had not stopped hacking her canvas off the wall until her final scream had died out and the floor was littered with splintered wood from both the frame and wall behind it. Taking it one step at a time, Harry had begun renovating the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black from that point forward. He had torn down the wall entirely and rebuilt it, mounting a brand new portrait in place of the old one.

Sirius Black stared back at her from his ornate golden frame, eyebrows raised at her stealthy entrance.

"Promise not to bite, love, even though you're wearing leather. My _favourite_," he drawled, extremely reminiscent of his former self.

"Hello Sirius. Is Harry in?" Hermione waved.

"In the kitchen. Brace yourself," Sirius walked out of sight, presumably into his frame in the kitchen. Hermione turned and skipped down the few steps onto the kitchen level and pushed through the door at the end of the hall.

"Harry?"

"Hermione!" Harry replied, turning at the sound of her voice. "Say '_Hi Auntie 'Mione'! _There she is, isn't she? There's Auntie 'Mione!" Teddy was pumping his fists excitedly at the sight of the new visitor and Harry laughed, rising from his seat in front of the little boy with hair equally as black as his current caregiver. "Hello, Hermione. How are you?" Harry pulled her into a hug and she wrapped her arms around his waist in return, giving him enough of a squeeze to make him grunt and feign injury.

"I'm well, how are you?" Hermione released him and approached Teddy, setting her bag on the kitchen table and bending down to his level. "How are _you_, my little angel?"

Teddy squealed and made a grab for her necklace, which was dangling precariously close to being within his reach.

"We're good. It's Harry-Teddy time today until Remus and Tonks are finished with work. Andromeda's gone to Scotland for the week, and Ginny's occupied so it's just us! Isn't it, Tedster?"

"I hope I'm not interrupting! I just hadn't seen you in so long, outside of the Burrow, I thought I'd drop by and see if you wanted to catch a film or something," Hermione removed her jacket and threw it around one of the kitchen chairs before settling on the other side of Teddy's highchair.

"You never interrupt, Hermione. A movie sounds good, tonight though? After Teddy goes home? You could hang with us for the day if you like, I'm sure we'd both like the company," Harry suggested, resuming feeding Teddy from a bowl of mashed sweet potato.

"Sure," Hermione smiled. "Had you already planned anything?"

"We were going to go to the park this afternoon, but nothing else in the works. I should probably squeeze in a quick trip to the store if I don't want to starve today, too," Harry wiped Teddy's messy chin and cheeks before continuing with feeding him. Teddy seemed to rather enjoy the sweet potato mash and voiced his opinion whenever he had finished his mouthful.

"Alright, how about I take Teddy with me to the market so you can wash the baby food out of your hair, and then when he goes down for his nap we can have lunch and then head to the park?" Hermione suggested, wiggling her fingers at the little boy, who now had curly brown hair and a rather Hermione-esque nose.

"Would you?" Harry's face begged.

"Yes, of course. I'm sure Remus and Tonks won't mind him being Harry-less for half an hour or so," Hermione laughed.

After Harry had finished feeding the little boy, he had cleaned him up, changed his diaper and dressed him in clean clothes. Hermione had put his baby carrier on over her jacket and bag and Harry lowered the gurgling baby into the opening, pulling his legs through and buckling him in, effectively securing him to Hermione's front snuggly. She giggled as he wiggled against her and thumped his head onto her chest.

"Alright, we'll be back in two shakes of lamb's tail. Say goodbye, Teddy!" Hermione waved the finger of hers he had clasped in his tiny fist and Harry waved back as Hermione closed the door behind herself and set off down the street. It was a short walk to the store and Hermione made her rounds with a cart, patting a cooing Teddy on the back and talking to him about the differences between fresh, canned and frozen vegetables and how often he should brush his teeth, once he got them.

As she waited in line at the check out, a lady who looked to be in her mid-thirties had tapped her on the shoulder as she bounced Teddy a bit.

"If you don't mind my saying, he is quite the charmer," she had smiled and given him a little wave. Hermione crossed her fingers and hoped Teddy would not contort any of his facial features to imitate the muggle stranger's.

"He is, isn't he?" Hermione muttered, wiping drool of his chubby chin.

"How old is he?"

"He's just over five months," Hermione hoped she remembered correctly what Remus had said at the Burrow the other day.

"Well, he looks just like you; you can see who he took after!"

Hermione smiled kindly and laughed, not bothering to correct the woman who obviously thought Teddy was her own son. She was only 18! 19 in a few days, but still so young. Of course, sooner rather than later she would be taking care of her own children, perhaps sooner than she had thought.

As Teddy and Hermione made their way back to Grimmauld Place, the wind had picked up and Hermione somehow managed to balance the tasks of holding groceries in the crook of her arms and holding Teddy's knitted hat down over his ears. A few short blocks later they arrived back to find Harry freshly showered, making a pot of tea.

"We're back!"

They had tumbled quickly in the front door, wind rustling the plastic of the bags and tumbling Hermione's hair around her flushed cheeks. Teddy squealed in glee whenever her hair tickled his face under his hat.

"Here, let me take those," Harry had taken the burden of the bags hastily and allowing Hermione to follow him easily back into the kitchen. With the chilly wind forgotten, Teddy was snuggling into her chest as the warmth of the house heated his small body. Hermione melted at the way his tiny eyelids fluttered up and down, try as he might to keep his eyes open.

"Little man is tired from his grocery run," Hermione tried not to jostle the dozy boy. "I'll just take him up and lay him down for his nap, shall I?"

"If you're okay doing that, I don't mind taking him," Harry finished unloading the bags Hermione had carted home.

"I can do it, just fix me some tea and I'll be right down."

Harry nodded and Hermione made her way to the first landing. The room set up for Teddy's stays was the one closest to the kitchen and sitting room and she let herself in. Carefully and slowly, she unbuckled the back of the carrier, holding the baby steady and folding down the back flap. She lifted his small form and he snuffled tiredly against her. When she had finally set him down in his crib, she pulled his shoes and outer layers off until he was just in a small blue onesie with his diaper slightly lopsided. Covering him with a small blanket, she kissed his forehead and crept out of the room, leaving the carrier on the rocking chair for another time.

"Perfect," Hermione had accepted her tea from Harry after ridding herself of her bag and jacket again. "He's down now, tuckered out."

"Thanks Hermione. I had him yesterday too, and for the rest of the week. I love him to death, but he's a handful!" Harry set himself down across from Hermione and drank from his mug.

"I don't mind taking him for a day if you'd like a break. Provided it's alright with Tonks and Remus, of course. I'd like having him," Hermione suggested lightly.

"Sure, if you'd like to. We can ask them when they come to get Teddy tonight. Thanks, Hermione," Harry had patted her hand. "So you missed me, did you?"

"Yes, terribly," Hermione nodded solemnly. The majority of her friends had grown up almost exclusively in the magical world, and sometimes Hermione just needed a bit of company that understood muggle life without it having to be explained. Ginny also enjoyed going to see movies with Hermione but it was still the kind of awe and wonder that magic had evoked in Hermione at her first trip to Diagon Alley all those years ago.

"Likewise. How are things?" Harry asked with an air about him suggesting he already knew most of what was going on, likely passed on to him by his girlfriend.

"Good, but I'm sure you know that already," Hermione countered.

"You know me too well, Hermione," Harry shook his head and took another sip.

"Comes with being on the run, I suppose," Hermione said casually and mirrored his actions, setting her teacup down. "Things are good though, with George. I assume that's what you're asking about?"

"Mmm, mostly, seeing as that's the biggest change in your life right now. How're you... dealing with things?" Harry surveyed his friend.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose. We're just trying to get to know one another better right now so that we can... I don't know. Decide to marry or not, although the cost of not marrying is that we'll both be paired off with other people, as you know. So it's more like just getting used to each other. Because I think we'll end up marrying. I know it's early on but he's a good man and I can't imagine trading him in for an unknown," Hermione fumbled for words.

"That would be very unlike you. You'll get used to it, I suppose. He's not a bad bloke, at least," Harry commented. "I'll still knock his head in if he hurts you though. I should probably make that clear."

"I had no doubts, Harry, thank you," Hermione laughed. "How about a spot of lunch, and then when Teddy wakes up we can get him set up for the park?"

Hermione and Harry managed to whip up chicken salad sandwiches and some garden salad for their lunch. The two of them spend nap time chatting amiably about everything going on, rumours of other people being engaged, Auror training things, and Hermione's ideas on finding a job.

After dressing Teddy in the most adorable tiny dungarees Hermione had ever seen, the three of them bundled up and left for the park, Teddy strapped to Harry facing forward in the carrier this time. Every time Harry or Hermione kicked fallen leaves around, he pumped his tiny little legs freely and clapping jerkily.

Hermione found herself indulging in the little boy's laughs and giggles, deliberately trying to bring them out. For the first time since receiving news of impending laws nearly two weeks ago, Hermione forgot all about the world moving outside the park.

The two adults enjoyed some time playing with Teddy, taking him on the see-saw and the swings and then walking the perimeter of the park area before heading back as it began to drizzle. When they came in the front door, they were greeted at the kitchen table by Teddy's parents.

"Wotcher, Hermione! Didn't think I'd be seeing you today!" Tonks had gone straight for her son, relieving Harry as quickly as possible, snuggling him close. "I've missed you, my darling!" she cooed to him. Remus smiled and kissed the boy's forehead.

"I didn't think I'd see you either!" Hermione and Tonks shared a one arm embrace quickly. "I just showed up looking for Harry and found something much better." Hermione grinned at Harry's put out look.

"He only had eyes for you today, that's for sure," Harry agreed.

"Speaking of, Harry mentioned he had Teddy all this week and I suggested I take him on one of those days, maybe Thursday, just to give him a small break. Plus, I love spending time with Teddy, and he loves me too, don't you?" Hermione waggled her fingers under the boy's arms and he squirmed and giggled into his mother's shoulder.

"I think that would be fine, don't you Dora?" Remus was nodding at Hermione.

"Yes, of course! I'm sure Teddy would love a day with you. We'd be so thankful, Hermione. Harry has been such a big help lately, but I'm sure he'd like a break," Tonks mentioned.

Harry just smiled back at Hermione.

"Well, why don't I come get him on Thursday morning then? What time do you leave for work?"

"Just before nine," Remus answered, accepting his son from his wife.

"Yes, just pop by around eight thirty if that's not too early for you, and we'll get you set up. You can stay at our place with him if you like," Tonks said, gathering her bag and coat.

"Fantastic. I'll see you Thursday then!"

"Thanks again, Harry. We don't know what we'd do without you," Tonks pulled Harry in for a hug, nearly tripping over a chair leg in the process.

"What are godfathers for?" Harry quipped.

"Nevertheless, thank you. We'll see you tomorrow morning. Have a good night, you two!" Remus called before they all left for the sitting room where the biggest fireplace stood.

"Goodbye!" they both called after them.

The two friends had not removed their coats after coming in yet, and decided to leave again for a nearby muggle movie theatre to see what was playing. With a large black umbrella between the two, they managed to arrive and decide on a recently released comedy about a wedding singer and a waitress. The film had them both in stitches and they left with aching cheeks.

Hermione thanked Harry profusely for letting her spend the day with him and Teddy and for going to the theatre with her before tackling him in a hug and promising to see him again soon. When she arrived home, Crookshanks fixed her with a pointedly annoyed glare from the window sill where he was sitting staring at an owl. The owl was glossy and black and looked quite distinguished. Hermione let the unfamiliar bird in and detached the message from his leg. He flew out into the dark quickly, Hermione unable to discern him from the night sky.

Curiously, Hermione tore it open and read the missive.

_'Dear Ms. Granger,_

_We are pleased to offer you the opportunity to contribute to the next edition of Hogwarts, A History. Please owl us at your earliest convenience to inform the publishing house if this would interest you. We can set up a meeting where we can go over what we are planning with this new release, and you can decide if this project is for you. We look forward to working with you._

_Regards,_

_Amelia Wordsmith_

_Editor-in-chief_

_M. L. Books'._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you to all the lovely readers out there! Your reviews and messages keep me going.**

**I know there was no George in this chapter but not to worry, he'll be back soon.  
><strong>

**Don't forget to leave me a review!**


	8. Chapter 8

When Hermione had arrived home after spending the day with Harry, she had found an owl bearing some fantastic news. The Chief Editor for M. L. Books Publishing House had asked her, Hermione Granger, to participate in the new edition of _Hogwarts, A History_. Hermione had stared, completely gobsmacked, at the letter in her hands before sinking to sit on her floor. Crookshanks assaulted her but for once, she paid no mind, petting him absently which he did not seem content with.

Shaking with excitement at the prospect of her possible future, Hermione stood once more after a few minutes of disbelieving opening and closing of her mouth.

She had to tell someone!

Without a second thought, she apparated to the Burrow. Thankfully she had not taken her shoes off before she had read the letter, and she splashed through the puddles in the yard up to the door. Barging through noisily, she paid no attention to the screen and door slamming behind her and pushed through to the sitting room.

"_Hermione! _Are you alright?" Ginny jumped up from the sofa, scattering her papers all over the floor in the process.

"Yes... Sorry... _Here_..." she puffed and held out the letter she had just received to her friend while holding a stitch in her side. Ginny read it through quickly, eyes darting back and forth over the short message. When she finished she squealed loudly and embraced Hermione tightly.

"Oh my goodness! This is so fantastic! _Congratulations!_"

The two girls were mid-jump when Molly, Arthur and Ron came barreling down the stairs at the commotion.

"Girls?! What's going on? When did Hermione get here?" Arthur asked, frowning in confusion at their enthusiasm.

"Just now, here!" Ginny thrust Hermione's letter at her parents.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, not bothering with the parchment.

"I was asked to contribute to an updated new edition of _Hogwarts, A History!_" she grinned so wide her cheeks ached.

"Cor! That's amazing!"

"Well done, Hermione! That's great news!"

"Congratulations, my girl!"

After many hugs from all, kisses on the cheek by Molly and fierce squeezing by Ron, Hermione stepped back.

"I'm so sorry to barge in like this, I just couldn't keep it to myself. I only just got back home and the owl was waiting at the window for me," she explained hastily.

"Oh, I don't blame you at all, dear," Molly patted her back. "Have you told anyone else yet?"

"No, I came straight here. I looked after Teddy with Harry today, so I think I'll hop off home now. I can tell more people tomorrow," Hermione smiled tiredly, finding that the sudden influx of adrenaline and excitement was wearing down, as was she.

* * *

><p>The morning after that, Hermione rose early and left for the Lupin's just before eight thirty in the morning.<p>

"Good morning, Hermione!" Remus greeted her at the front door, stepping aside to let her in.

"Look at that, Teddy! Hermione's here for you!" Tonks was just wiping up the little boy's face, distracting him from fussing with the arrival of a visitor.

"Hello!" Hermione waved to the toothless grin of the baby as Remus took her coat to hang it up in the front closet. "How is he this morning?"

"Oh, his cheery self. Remus has mentioned he's teething, so he's rather drooly these days but he doesn't get too cranky most of the time. He was up at six this morning, so he'll probably get sleepy between eleven and noon, and then he'll sleep until two or three. Then we'll be home just after five. Is that going to be too much Teddy time for you?" Tonks listed.

"No, of course not. This little man and I will have a grand old time together, won't we?" Teddy stared wide-eyed at Hermione and blubbered on a new bit if drool. "I thought so."

"There's all sorts of mash in the fridge for him, and formula too. He may like a bottle before nap time, he drops off quickly with one of those. And you're welcome to anything in the kitchen," Tonks continued, fetching her work bag as Remus cleaned up after their breakfast.

"And the library," he added with a smile. Hermione grinned approvingly.

"I'll be fine, you two. You just have a good day at work, and if we encounter any crises, we will be sure to owl you."

Teddy's parents rushed around in a flurry of cloaks and bags and goodbye kisses before flooing to the Ministry, leaving the house much quieter. Teddy began banging on his highchair tray, pausing, and then starting up again, enjoying the noise he was making.

Hermione lifted Teddy from his seat and they went to get him cleaned up. All morning they played together; Hermione read to him and he was fascinated by both her voice and the pictures, she also set him loose on his floor mat but all he could really do was roll around slowly. Laying on the floor with him, she let him play with her hair and she tickled him just to hear his bubbling baby laugh.

After a warm bottle in the late morning, he had drifted off to sleep in Hermione's arms and she had gingerly settled his snuffling form into his crib and switched on the baby monitor. After having a bite of sandwich and an apple, Hermione settled in the small study in which there was a small collection of books that she had largely not read. She settled in and before she knew it, Teddy was kicking up a fuss and it was quarter to three.

"Oh, my love, what is _wrong?_" she had entered the room asking but immediately found that Teddy was in urgent need of a diaper change. Luckily, Hermione could spell the air fresh and change him quickly. "Would you like to go for a walk? Would you like to go outside?" Hermione questioned the little one, clasping his tiny fists in hers and gently making him dance.

They happily made their way over to the market, Teddy bundled against the chill in his pram this time. Hermione did a bit of shopping for her apartment, including some fresh vegetables and fruit as well as bread, milk and juice. They took the long way home and stopped at a park bench so that Hermione could spoon feed the little man some mashed carrots that she had brought from home, which he gobbled down hungrily. He was still hungry when they got back so Hermione made him a small bottle and the two of them dozed on the couch while he fed.

Remus and Tonks soon arrived home, thanking Hermione profusely for watching Teddy, who squealed at their arrival. When she left with her groceries, she pecked him on the cheek and he made to reach for her and her heart melted.

"Another time, Teddy! On Saturday! See you three soon!"

* * *

><p>Hermione had trouble sleeping that night, nerves keeping her tossing and turning until the early hours of the morning. Hermione had a meeting at eleven with the Chief Editor of M. L. Books, the publishing house that distributed the last edition of <em>Hogwarts, A History.<em>

She stood in her stockings, bra and pencil skirt, looking between the two tops on her bed, trying to decide what made her look more... trustworthy? Grown up? Responsible? She was no good at this. Maybe she should have called on Ginny.

Nevermind.

Lavender or blue?

Blue?

Blue.

Hermione shrugged on the shirt and buttoned up, tucking it into her skirt and zipping that up too. She looked in her mirror, wondering what exactly to do with her hair. Ginny had taught her that one charm... She pulling out her wand and tried to remember the spell. Conceding that not much could hurt at this point, Hermione gave it a go. Her hair gave an unenthusiastic wiggle, although Hermione did think it had smoothed out a bit in the process. Trying again, this time with more force in the wand jab, Hermione's curls gently smoothed and loosened a bit, leaving her hair in soft waves. She stuck a few hair grips between her teeth and pinched the hair around her crown together at the back and pinned it in place. Deciding that undone was chic, she popped some earrings in and shrugged her matching blazer on.

Her old leather case from school was a worn, warm brown and didn't particularly go with her charcoal suit but it was all she had to use at the moment. She nervously slipped her feet into some heels and assured herself it was just a first meeting. She would be fine!

She hurried down Diagon Alley moments later, hoping her heels weren't too much and hoping she wasn't too early.

The building that M. L. Books was in was an old red brick one with beautiful antique leaded windows, the glass wavy with imperfections in the most charming way possible. Hermione stepped into the lobby, her heels clicking on the marble floor as she made her way to the front desk to speak with the secretary. The tiny blonde woman had directed her to wait for just a moment for her to fetch Amelia, the lady she would be seeing this morning.

Amelia arrived shortly, and Hermione set aside the issue of Witch Weekly she had been thumbing through to stand.

"Hermione Granger, it's lovely to meet you. I am Amelia Wordsmith, Chief Editor here at M. L. Books, and I'm ecstatic you accepted the offer of a meeting to discus our new project!" Amelia had shaken her hand firmly with a wide honest smile.

"It's lovely to meet you as well! I'm so honoured you even considered me for this monumental task," Hermione followed after the woman eagerly, her bag thumping comfortingly at her side just as it had while studying at Hogwarts.

"Yes, we spoke with Minerva McGonagall and she helped us narrow down our list of possible contributors to you. She gave quite a reference for you, wonderful things to say," Amelia held the door of her office open for Hermione to enter.

It had walls washed in cream paint, and the window overlooked Diagon Alley two floors below. It was small but not unreasonably so, and well organized. Amelia obviously wasn't one for clutter in her workspace, and Hermione immediately felt more at home. As Hermione sat across from the woman in the guest seat in front of the desk, Hermione was able to get a better look at her potential new boss.

Amelia was a tall woman, rather slim build. Her face was rather heart-shaped and her skin was pale and perfect with a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose. By and far her most striking feature was her long ginger hair that always seemed to settle just right after she moved, as if by magic. Hermione conceded this might be the reason. Hermione set her case down on the chair beside her and turned back to Amelia.

"I'm glad I come in such high regard. I have to say, I was very excited after I got your letter. I wasn't sure if I could wait to meet you!" Hermione laughed, and some of her nervousness evaporated.

"We are so glad that you have taken an interest in our offer. Can I get you some tea? We can discuss our plans here at the company and how we'd like to include you."

"Yes, thank you," Hermione nodded.

Soon the women had steaming tea in front of them and they got into the details of why Hermione was there.

"Well, as you likely know, Ms. Granger, _Hogwarts, A History _was last updated with more recent information in the late 30's by Bathilda Bagshot. Hogwarts has been open for just over 1000 years, and there were many many editions prior to the one most recently released after her additions to the text. We would be asking you not to change the original text that has been published thus far, but to add to the information to bring it up to current times, and add any information you feel might be missing from its pages. So essentially you would be reviewing it and possibly adding more detail wherever possible and also catching the reader up from the mid 1920's to present day. Of course, we feel your contributions are invaluable considering you had such a big role in recent history, and quite a lot of that was tied closely with your time at Hogwarts, if I am correct in assuming here." Amelia added some sugar to her mug and offered the bowl to Hermione.

"Yes, of course, I can see why you chose me," Hermione responded. "I would find it a great honour to be able to help with this. Would it be solely me doing the researching and adding in history, or will I be working with someone else?"

"Your reputation precedes you, Ms. Granger. Minerva assured us you would not be needing any assistance with your job, should you choose to accept it. If you would like someone, of course that can be arranged," Amelia sipped her tea and held Hermione's gaze kindly.

"No, no, I was just curious. I think I shall be just fine on my own," Hermione smiled.

"So I was thinking I would give you the contract to take home and look over at your leisure. I'm sure you'll find everything in it to be quite fair, I'll just go over some main points now, if you like," Amelia set a thick contract on the desktop, facing Hermione. "First a foremost, the timeline for this from when you sign with us to final edits and sending to the printer is ideally 12 months. There is a clause in here for your benefit, in case anything come up, life, you now how it is, and we can length it to 18 months. I know a year is a short time crunch for all this researching and editing of historical information but I'm confident it's doable. Like I said, there's an 18 month option but we'd like to keep that for emergencies only. Secondly, you will have all the resources you need from us, all of the old manuscripts he have gathered from previous editions, as well as Bathilda's notes from when she did the very same thing. As I've mentioned, I've spoken with the Headmistress and you will be allowed free reign in the library and about the castle to research and investigate and ask questions as you see fit; The ghosts are an invaluable resource. Thirdly, and I want to be quite up front about this," Hermione sat up a little straighter, "the advance we are offering is twice what we would normally be offering and this is mainly out of certainty that this book will sell much better than all previous copies. Not only are you lending your talents in the form of research, you are also lending your name, reputation and personal history with the school to the project, one that Professor Bagshot did not quite have. The 2250 galleon advance is equal to about 1400 pounds, and everything about royalties is in here in the contract for you to look over."

Hermione nearly choked on her tea. 2250 galleons up front for her work?

"That is quite generous of you, thank you."

"Well, we believe that your work is worth the investment. Depending on how this endeavour works out, we may very well be asking for your participation on a number of other projects at a later date," Amelia smiled calmly. "We hope to forge a lasting relationship with you over this, Ms. Granger."

Just as when she had received the letter, Hermione was quite speechless.

"I'm so grateful for the opportunity, Ms. Wordsmith. Thank you very much!"

The two women drained their mugs and stood to shake hands.

"I'll just have Eleanor get you a copy of the contract. Take a few weeks to think it over. I know this is a big endeavour, and with the new law... I don't know what your plans are, but take everything into account. And please, if you have any questions, don't hesitate to owl me personally. When you've looked it over thoroughly just make an appointment and, assuming your answer is _yes, _we'll get the ball rolling quickly."

"For fear of sounding like a broken record, thank you! I will look it over and I will get back to you soon," Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and they shook hands one last time before Hermione made her way out of the office, down the staircase and out into the fall afternoon.

Diagon Alley was in full swing by that point in the early afternoon, and Hermione was elated. She had in her hand the opportunity to do something big, and she was sure she was going to take it. Tucking the envelope away in her satchel, Hermione set off at a trot for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes on the other end of the Alley.

The sign on the front door read _'CLOSED' _still but Hermione stepped in with a jangle of the bell anyway.

"Well, don't you look positively corporate."

George was standing at the counter with a few ledgers spread out before him. His ginger hair was standing at an odd angle and Hermione supposed he had been running his hand through it trying to understand something in the books. His button up was open at the top and the sleeves were rolled up haphazardly. It was hanging loose from his dark blue jeans and he looked generally quite rumpled.

"I am somewhat corporate today. I just had my meeting," Hermione stared at him leaning against the counter from where she had stepped in.

"_And!?_" George pressed expectantly.

"I think I'm going to do it!" Hermione gave a small hop and a jig and George roared happily, opening his arms for her. She dropped her bag to the floorboards and a hop, skip and a jump later, he was spinning her in his arms. The two were laughing happily and Hermione's chest felt like it might explode from excitement.

"Congratulations! That's fantastic! You'll be brilliant, I know it," George came to a stop and looked down at her intently.

"What's all this then?" Fred came up from the back room, surveying the scene before him.

Hermione righted herself and tugged her blazer back down from when it had ridden up.

"I just had my meeting for the book deal and I think I'm going to take it!"

Fred roared just as loudly as George had done and pulled her into a tight hug.

"That is sensational, Hermione! First class news," he said, releasing her.

"I don't know what to do with myself! I'm so... all of a dither!" Hermione flapped her hands and George laughed.

* * *

><p>Ginny had shown Hermione how to do an uncomplicated updo to wear with her birthday dress and Hermione endeavoured to replicate it just before she was due to leave for the Burrow. There was a braid down the side and a few piecey twists at the back and even though Ginny said it was easy, Hermione was sure she had used twice as many hair grips as her friend had when showing her.<p>

Hermione wiggled into her dress, careful not to disturb her hair and zipped the side up. She was already wearing some nude heels for the occasion; with the dress hitting her mid-thigh, the shoes made her legs appear much longer than she knew them to be. Slipping into a cropped blazer, she gathered her bag and wand.

She was of course excited for the festivities in her honour today, but she couldn't help taking a moment to think of her parents and what they might be doing today instead of celebrating her birthday as they had always done. Hermione's mother had always made pancakes, chocolate chip ones, for her daughter on the morning of her birthday. They had always picked her up from school and gone for ice cream and they would all end up being so full, dinner ended up being very late or not at all. Hermione's family was very small; both of her parents were only children, as was she, and her mother's parents had both passed away many years ago. Her father's father was still living, spending his days in a care home with severe Alzheimers and his mother had passed away just after he had gone into the care facility. They had, of course, relocated him to Australia without issue. She missed them terribly, but she also had quite a large adoptive hodge-podge family of people she loved and who loved her in return. And really wasn't that what mattered? That everyone had someone to love and love them back? Wasn't that what Harry had fought in the name of?

Pulling herself together, she apparated to the front walk this time, avoiding the necessity of stepping in puddles in her impractical shoes. It was just after midday and the sun was trying desperately to to break free of the clouds with no success. She made her way to the front door, and before she had even climbed the steps, it had been flung open.

"Happy birthday, Hermione!" chorused from the gathering of people who had managed to squeeze around the front door.

After many hugs, pats on the back, congratulations on her book offer and birthday wishes by many people, she came to a halt in front of George.

"You look smashing," he stated, giving her a once-over and she felt her cheeks and chest flush at his attentions.

"Thank you," Hermione blinked and smiled.

"And happy birthday, as well," he continued, pulling her to his side warmly. "Now not to sound ungrateful here, but did you pick that dress just so that I could see straight down between your-"

Hermione's mouth dropped open and she elbowed his side, pulling away.

"I said I wasn't ungrateful of the view! Just don't stand beside Fred. Or Bill. Or Ron. Or Dad, for god's sake. Percy, he's alright, he's too short to see down anywhere-"

"Hermione, what are you doing? There's more people in the sitting room!" Ginny reappeared and tugged her friend down the hall, having no clue what George had been saying.

Remus, Tonks and Teddy wished her a happy birthday, and Teddy reached out for her as he had done the last time she had seen him. She took him in her arms and snuggled him close, thanking Tonks and Remus for their well wishes.

She made her rounds to Kingsley, McGonagall, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and some other Order members, who all congratulated her on her book as well. By the time the late lunch was called, Teddy had fallen asleep on her shoulder and Remus gingerly lifted his son from her and set him to nap in Ginny's room upstairs.

"If I could have everyone's attention! Thank you, yes, yes - _shut up_, Ron! Hello! I would just like to say, Hermione, happy birthday and congratulations! May you have many more blessings this year!"

Ginny received a round of applause and hooting and everyone toasted her words with pumpkin juice, firewhisky or wine. The raucous table devoured the lunch that Mrs. Weasley had set out and soon they were singing happy birthday and there was an enormous cake with candles to blow out.

Hermione was absolutely showered with attention and compliments and every so often, she would feel a hand at her lower back but when she turned to catch George, he had already disappeared back into the crowd, sometimes throwing a smirk over his shoulder and making her stomach flip.

There were a few gifts for her to open including a brand new briefcase made of dark leather and engraved with her initials that Molly, Arthur, McGonagall, Remus and Tonks had all seemed to go in on. She had gasped when she opened George's gift; it was a large, white fluffy quill of very fine quality, for luck in her new job he had said. Harry and Ron had gotten her a massive box of Sugar Quills as a sort of gag gift and some special new ink she had yet to try from Scrivenshaft's that she had had her eye on. Ginny had gotten her a smart new blazer and promised to help her go through her closet now that she was a famous author to help her chuck the old stuff.

When people had started leave around supper time, Hermione thanked everyone profusely for coming. Eventually it was just Fred, George, Harry, Ginny and Ron left in the sitting room, and they had already helped tidy up after the guests had left.

Outside was dark and Hermione felt her stomach rumble, noting it had been hours since lunch. She was tired from talking to all the people but she didn't want the day to end quite yet.

"Why don't we go down the pub?" Ginny had suggested, and Hermione quickly agreed.

The night was cool and when George offered his warm hand for her to hold on the walk down the hill to town, she accepted happily. The others lead the way and George and Hermione brought up the rear.

"So how was your day?" George asked quietly.

"Very good thank you," Hermione puffed out.

"You enjoyed the party?"

"Very much so," Hermione smiled and looked down at her feet, her heels clicking on the cobbled sidewalk. George held the door to the pub open for her and followed close behind her.

Inside was warm and the lights cast an easy glow over the atmosphere. There was music playing in the background and the people seemed the relaxed type. Hermione reminded herself that this was a small town pub, not a biker hangout. What was she expecting? Gangs? She laughed at herself.

Her nice dress garnered a few looks from the patrons of the bar and George slipped his hand into hers, immediately quelling any sort of uneasiness she might have felt. He led her to the bar and leaned over it, placing his free palm flat on the surface.

"What can I get ya?" the middle-aged man behind the bar had asked after a moment.

"Can we get..." George trailed off, turning to look at her, prompting.

"Oh! A whiskey sour, please," Hermione leaned over the bar beside George. She placed her hand on the bar as well and was momentarily thrown by the sight of the ring on her finger, even though it had been there since he had given it to her. It glimmered in the light of the pub and she raised her eyes to watch her fiance.

"And I'll have a pint of whatever you have on tap, the darker the better."

As she watched, George fished his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a few notes, reaching over to drop them on the barman's counter below as he moved away to grab the whiskey for Hermione's drink. He moved to slip his wallet back into his pocket and Hermione had to admit that he looked rather... Nice. Not just handsome, but he _looked_ like a good person. He was leaning against the bar with such ease, such quiet confidence. His was not one that needed to be rubbed in everyone's face with cockiness; it was an assumed, and it was evident in everything he did. The way he spoke, the way he held himself and in the way he laughed. He had proven, in the last few weeks in which he had been under closer scrutiny by her, that he was unfailingly kind and much more thoughtful than she had thought. How had she never noticed this before? Fred, of course, was much the same and she had no terrible things to say about him before and least of all now. However, compared to George he seemed a bit louder, a bit more obvious, a bit more in need of attention and recognition and worship. In general, just a bit coarser. He was of course still a good man, but perhaps not the man for her. Was George? George with his smart jeans and blazer, with one hand tucked into a pocket and his ginger hair sticking at an odd angle?

Just a moment later he turned to look at her and smiled and Hermione had the distinct impression he wanted to say something.

"Here you are," the barman set their drinks down for them.

"Cheers," George turned away to thank him.

The two of them made their way through the bar to the others who had taken a large booth table off to the side.

"Finally!" Ginny remarked as they slip into one side, Hermione sandwiched between Fred and George. "You two took ages."

"Oh, hush," Hermione dismissed, taking a sip of the liquid in her glass.

"How was your birthday, Hermione?" Harry asked, sliding his arm around Ginny's shoulders and taking a pull from his pint.

"Lovely, thank you all so much," Hermione grinned. "I'm really happy to be able to spend my birthday with family and friends."

Fred pulled her into a large hug, tugging her sideways into his chest and wiping fake tears from his eyes and pretending to blow his nose in her hair.

George again slid his hand into hers and as she was released by Fred, he pulled it into his lap and held it there for the rest of the conversation. As time wore on, the pub crowd thinned a little, and the birthday group quieted down naturally. Hermione stifled a yawn with the back of her hand.

"Do you want to go home now?" George's mouth was suddenly very close to the shell of her ear, close enough to feel his warm breath on her skin.

"I think so, yes," Hermione nodded.

"We're going to go as well," Ginny agreed and Harry also nodded. Ron looked distracted and Hermione couldn't tell why.

"I think I'll pop by Angelina's if you lot are going to call it a night so early," Fred declared, shaking his head.

The group stood and they began trickling towards the front door, Hermione leading George towards the exit. He clasped her hand and pulled her to a gentle stop as they crossed a small empty dance floor.

"How about one dance before we go?" he asked, eyes wide in hopefulness.

"Alright," Hermione smiled slowly.

George smoothly manoeuvred her so that he held one hand of hers to his chest and pulled her closer to him by the waist. Hermione settled her other hand on his shoulder, and she couldn't think of anything more natural than being held in his arms gently as they swayed back and forth. She had been about to lay her head carefully on his chest when he opened his mouth again.

"You are truly beautiful tonight, Hermione."

Surprisingly, she did not feel the flush she normally did at his attentions and just held his gaze steadily and for a long moment.

"Will you kiss me tonight?" her whispered question barely met his ear.

"Perhaps," he smiled.

"As a birthday gift?" she pressed.

"Low blow, Hermione," he chuckled, and the song came to an end. "Besides, I already gave you a gift today."

The two pulled apart and Hermione felt sure tonight would not be the night and embarrassment spread through her chest and up the back of her neck. She never would have asked if she had not been certain she had seen the thought flit across his eyes a handful of times throughout the night. She had obviously been mistaken and she dropped her eyes.

"No, no, none of that," George demanded lightly, pulling her out the front door of the establishment. "It isn't that I don't want to. It isn't that at all."

The chilly air surrounded them; the night was remarkably colder than it had been when they had made their way down a few hours ago, and the streets were empty of bodies. The others must have made their way home quickly, for she could not even hear their distant voices travelling down from the hillside.

"Then what is it?" Hermione questioned and they came to a stop once more.

"I don't want to rush this. I mean," George closed his eyes, "Believe me, please, I want to rush this, as in I want to kiss you absolutely senseless. But I don't want to rush this because I want to be sure that you want it as much as I do, and I want to be sure that we wont tear this apart because we didn't think."

_I want to kiss you absolutely senseless._

_I want to be sure you want this just as much as I do._

"What if I told you I did?" Hermione spoke.

"I would say take this," George dug in his jacket pocket and produced a box of WWW Patented Daydream Charms, "because they help. At least, they've helped me."

Hermione blinked as he pressed the box into her palm.

"Thank you, I suppose."

All she had wanted was one kiss.

"I'll take you home," he pulled her close again.

Suddenly, her apartment came into view and she pulled away.

"Thank you for the quill, George, it is really too lovely," she started, pulling off her blazer and realizing she was quite cold.

He caught her hand and before she could react, he pressed his lips to her knuckles and her breath hitched in her throat. For far too short a time, she felt the warmth and softness of his lips firmly on her skin and as suddenly as it had begun, it ended.

"You're very welcome, Hermione," he smiled at her shocked expression. "I'll see you soon."

Hermione did not move from her spot with her other hand grasping the kitchen counter for a very long moment until Crookshanks snapped her back to reality with a loud meow and a stretch from the nest of covers he had created on the bed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There we go, another chapter. Do we have enough tension or shall I find a way to create even more?**

**Leave a review!**


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione lay in bed staring at the white spackled ceiling, contemplating the events of last night and, more specifically, the words and actions of George Weasley.

_I want to kiss you absolutely senseless._

_I want to be sure you want this just as much as I do._

Was the man daft? Of course she wanted it just as much as he did. He must be able to tell.

Mustn't he?

She blushed at just about every secret glance he thought she didn't notice, every time he offered his hand for her, every brush of her lower back, every time he focused his considerable attention on her and her alone, and every time he unwittingly revealed he found her even remotely attractive.

_Did you pick that dress just so that I could see straight down between your-_

Hermione even blushed at the thought of his comment about her birthday dress last night as he met her at the front door. Surely he could tell?

But then again, maybe not. Maybe he thought she blushed because she wasn't used to the attention, which was partly true. Hermione tried to list the times she had made the first move of anything, and found that she could not think of any.

He was the one to _offer _his hand or arm for her, she never _took_ it without his suggestion.

He was the one who had started all their serious conversations about the new legislation they had been forced to face.

He was the one to suggest they go out the few times they had.

Hermione sighed.

Maybe she hadn't done a great job of showing how she felt beyond logical exchanges of words. However, considering that fact she wasn't even sure how she felt, she could find no fault in her actions until now. She would have to find a way to make it a little more clear from now on, and tamp down her need to merely blush and go along with his plans. Since when had Hermione Granger been one to be led?

Resolving her decision, she puzzled over how to implement it. Perhaps opportunity would present itself sometime soon. Turning to her side and blowing a few curls out of her face, her eyes landed yet again in the box George had given her just before leaving her at home.

_Because they help. At least, they've helped me._

What could a daydream charm help with?

_I want to kiss you absolutely senseless._

Is that what he dreamt about when he took one of his own creations? Hermione's heart thrummed faster in her chest. Maybe she should ask him tonight at dinner what he meant when he had said it helped him. Would he tell her if he was day dreaming about kissing her?

Hermione's stomach clenched and growled loudly and she could delay rising no longer. Disregarding everything that had been ingrained in her about how breakfast was the most important meal of the day and things with too much sugar should be avoided, Hermione stood at her kitchen counter and ate a piece of leftover birthday cake that had appeared at her flat sometime before she arrived home last night. Crookshanks followed on her heels and sat on the counter in front of her, rather indignant that she had not fed him yet but instead taunted him with a forkful of the chocolate raspberry deliciousness.

She briefly debated what to do with her day before Sunday dinner at the Weasley's and decided to crack the massive contract from M. L. Books and begin reading it through. Considering she should at least talk to George about the timeline of the project and how it might tweak their plans, including him in the decision was probably advisable.

Pulling a notebook from one of the kitchen drawers and digging for a ballpoint pen, Hermione jotted down a list of things to do and remember for the day and the week ahead.

_'- Tidy_

_- Shower and dress_

_- Read contract_

_- Dinner at Burrow_

_- Ask George on a date (channel inner Gryffindor)_

_- Actually plan a date_

_- Take initiative with George whenever possible_

_- Daydream Charm?'_

Hermione flicked on her muggle radio and went about starting at the top of her list, quickly making her bed and straightening the small room. When she jumped into the shower minutes later, she tried to brainstorm ways to show George that she might like him. A little. She was still pondering as she stood in front of the mirror and squeezed the water from her hair with her towel.

She dressed economically in black leggings, a white vest top and another one of her father's soft, old dress shirts left open and rolled up past her elbows. Hermione's father was not an overlarge man, but on her small frame it was quite loose and came down past her bum, providing a little more coverage than the tank alone. She deliberated on whether or not to go outside, maybe to a cafe or park to do her reading. Glancing out the window, she saw that the sky had a few wispy clouds floating about but was, in general, quite nice yet not warm looking. Outside it was, then.

Hermione donned her green army canvas, threw her bag about her shoulder, ensured her papers were inside, and slipped on some moccasins before apparating into muggle London. She stopped at a bistro to pick up some lunch; a grilled sandwich, fruit salad and fresh lemonade. Hyde Park was nearby and Hermione trotted off to find herself a bench overlooking the Serpentine and the boaters taking advantage of the nicer September weather.

As she walked, she people watched.

Although the large majority of people in the park with her were likely muggles, it was lovely to see that the general mood of the United Kingdom was looking up. It had been rather dismal and depressing and worrisome before the Final Battle, muggle and magical alike feeling the effects of Voldemort's stifling and horrifying campaign. Since his downfall, people were in a tangibly better mood, happier and more carefree than they had been in a long time. Those were the things that you could not put a price on.

Heading in from between the Belgravia and Mayfair areas, Hermione took the Serpentine Road into the vicinity of the lake and found herself a bench to watch over the rowers and birds in the water. The trees were turning colours and the fallen leaves crunched in the most satisfactory manner under the soles of her moccasins. The blue of the sky was reflected in the lake, clear with a crispness around the edges mirroring the turning of the seasons just as plainly as the orange and red leaves strewn across the lawns. Seating herself at an angle, she deposited her lunch and her bag next to her and whiled away the next hours eating, reading, making notations in the margins and taking in the city around her.

After a significant amount of time had passed and Hermione felt her stomach yearn for Molly Weasley's cooking, Hermione set her trash in the rubbish bin and trekked in the direction of Knightsbridge Station. Following the path lined with colourful trees and benches with people perched just as she had been, Hermione dashed across Carriage Road and slipped between two buildings. She zipped across the street to Harvey Nichols and then crossed to the station, darting around a double decker swiftly. Electing to take the muggle Tube home, she descended underground, swept along by other travelers.

As much as apparating and flooing were very quick and convenient modes of transportation, there was a part of Hermione that craved all things muggle from time to time. Taking the London Underground was one of those things that immediately immersed her in her non-magical roots. It was a combination of things; so many people all hurrying, trench coats and umbrellas dripping on the platform, the sound the trains made when they slowed coming into a station, subway tiles, busking musicians, posters and pictures that didn't move, graffiti. It was more than the sum of its parts for her, so much more. She knew that sounded silly but there was nothing for it.

Once she reached home, she dropped off her contract, leaving it on the kitchen counter for later or tomorrow. Winding a light scarf around her neck and tucking her ears into her gray beanie, Hermione left for the Burrow. When she appeared in the yard, she was immediately flagged over to the porch where Ron, Lavender, Ginny and Harry had taken up residence.

"Hermione!" Ginny waved with enthusiasm.

"Hello!" she replied, and she received a round of responses from the others including Lavender. "Nice to see you again, Lavender."

The girl nodded and gave Hermione a small smile. It struck Hermione as slightly nervous or unsure and she really couldn't blame Lavender. This was the first time she had been to the Burrow to meet Ron's family outside of school, and she was probably in a right twist over it. The autumn breeze teased Hermione's curls and she was just brushing them away from her face when she heard the distinctive double pop of the twins arriving.

"Hello, you lot. Lavender, right?" Fred held out a hand once he was close enough. "And this is Angelina, I don't know if you two remember each other at all..."

"Yes, of course," Lavender replied and was pulled into a hug by Angelina rather unexpectedly, a look of surprise on her delicate features.

"Nice to see you again," the dark-skinned girl grinned before lowering her voice and leaning in closer to Lavender's ear. "I know it can be a bit overwhelming, the Weasleys, but just remember, you can always talk to me, okay? I know what it's like."

Lavender met Hermione's eyes at Angelina's hushed words, and Hermione nodded reassuringly. Lavender cast her eyes around to see if anyone else had heard, and it appeared not. Fred was already in conversation with Harry, Ginny and Ron over some sort of Quidditch theory. Suddenly Hermione felt two large hands settle on her shoulders and she craned her neck back to see the face of George grinning down at her.

"Hi."

"Hi yourself," she responded.

"How were you feeling this morning after your rager of a birthday?"

"I had _one_ drink. I'd hardly call that a rager, George."

"Too right. You're far too tame. I thought you were turning 19, not 90." His teasing smirk revealed he was just trying to rile her up.

"Hey!" she cried, bluffing indignancy and flashing a winning smile.

"I'm George, by the way. The other one is Fred," he cocked his head in the direction of his twin and leaned around Hermione's shoulder to also offer his hand to Lavender.

"I remember," she took it. "I probably won't remember who's who though, and who's _with_ who," she continued, more to Hermione and Angelina.

"Well, okay. There's Hermione and George-" Angelina pointed and the two gave a wave, "myself and Fred," she gestured to the other twin involved in a different conversation, "you know Harry and Ginny, and obviously you and Ron. Then there's Bill and Fleur who are married already, Percy and Audrey, and Charlie and Alyssa. It'll be easier once you see faces, I'm sure."

Lavender had a few more questions and Angelina dutifully answered them as best she could. Hermione's concentration wavered as George was standing so close to her side in the cool breeze that she could feel the heat from his body against her side and back. She lifted her eyes once again to his.

"I meant to ask you something."

"Hmm?" he gazed down at her, prompting the question.

"Why did you give me a box of Daydream Charms?"

George's face split into a grin.

"Because they help," he replied, cryptic as ever.

"Help with what?"

"You're not daft, so don't pretend you are. You asked for a kiss. I gave you that box. What do you think they help with?" he quirked his eyebrow.

"Is that what _you _daydream about?" she countered, holding her breath for his answer.

"How about once you try it, we compare notes," he laughed and deflected, shuffling his feet. Hermione noted with pleasure that he seemed to have the slightest tinge of pink high on his cheeks but that could always be the chill in the air.

At that moment, Arthur appeared at the door.

"Alright, come on you lot, inside. Your mother's got dinner on the table..." he geld the door open for everyone to shuffle in. "Angelina, nice to see you again. Oh, go on Fred. Hermione, dear, how are you?"

"Very well, thank you," she grinned, closely followed by George.

"Fantastic. And Lavender, right? Nice to meet you, my dear. My name is Arthur, and all the redheads are mine. Now, I know it can be confusing-"

Lavender was receiving the same sort of advice from Mr. Weasley as Angelina had given her not minutes ago, but she seemed grateful all the same.

They all shuffled into the house, dumping shoes and coats at the door before being funneled into the sitting room. Mrs. Weasley, Percy, Audrey, Bill and Fleur were already inside by the small fire.

"Carry on to the table, Ginny," Molly directed her daughter who was at the head of the line of Weasleys and their counterparts. "Angelina, have you met Bill? Oh, Lavender darling, there you are, this is-"

George shuffled Hermione past and Molly beamed at her before continuing the introductions for Angelina and Lavender to the older Weasleys and their female companions. George directed her lightly into the seat next to his and Hermione felt her heart rate rise at the gentle brush of his hand on her back and shoulder as his attention was drawn to the continuing conversation the others were having, still on Quidditch.

With his attention occupied, Hermione took a breath and tried to look at things a little logically. She could cross _'Daydream Charm?' _off her list at home. The two other pressing things were _'Take initiative with George' _and _'Ask George on a date'._

The rest of the crowd followed in from the sitting room and people were filling the many seats around the long table.

_'One thing at a time, Hermione,' _she slowed. What could she do? Just something small to start. She took a slow breath and reached the short distance between them to pluck his left hand out of his lap and transfer it to hers, interlacing their fingers.

"No, I'm not saying that..." George's attention faltered and he turned back to her for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching almost imperceptibly. Hermione gave a quick smile before turning to Fleur nonchalantly and asking her how she was feeling these days being in the early stages of her pregnancy. Hermione felt George's eyes brush over her cheekbone and the tip of her nose before he turned back to finish his thought.

"Oh, I am well, 'ermione, most of the time. Eet eez ze tiredness zat gets me. Beel 'as been so _fantastique_, 'e takes such care," the veela woman patted Bill on the arm lovingly and he smiled at his wife, adoration clear from across the table where Hermione was sitting watching the pair.

"Well, you know, if I can ever help, in any way, please don't hesitate to call on me. I don't see you nearly enough, Fleur. Even if it's just for a cup of tea or anything, really..."

"_Tu es très sympathique, 'ermione, merci beaucoup. _I will do just zat," Fleur reached across the table to give Hermione's hand a squeeze. Fleur and Hermione had grown closer over the years. Considering that Hermione was the only one Fleur really knew in Britain that spoke any French, once Hermione had stopped to think about how lonely the woman probably was in a foreign land with no family, the process had been quick and Fleur seemed quite grateful for the friendliness.

Soon hearty beef and vegetable stew was being passed down the table, steaming bowls traveling from hand to hand down the length of it from Arthur all the way down to Bill at the other end. Next came large slices of fresh crusty bread for dipping and the clatter of glasses and utensils filled the room between the chatter.

"So how is everyone finding this I.M.P business?" Percy asked the group at large. "Have you all been in to see Madam Hopkirk now?"

There was a chorus of affirmative noises and nods and Fred laughed.

"Injunction for Magical Perpetuation. _IMP_," he chuckled, ripping a large chunk of bread into pieces and mopping up some stew. "Ministry tossers and their acronyms."

"If you've all given your information to the Ministry, after dinner you should all jot down what you said in terms of dates so that we can keep track of all of the 'engagements'," Percy continued and Arthur nodded seriously beside him.

"And start planning for weddings," Ginny commented, sending a sickenly sweet glance at Harry who managed to not choke on his mouthful of stew.

"Yes, of course. After all we do have six of them to plan," Molly commented.

"Speaking of six, where is Charlie tonight?" Hermione asked.

"He couldn't make it. Something about a rampage at the camp. _Dragons_," Molly muttered. "But he has been to the Ministry as well so that's all dandy."

"Hermione, have you made a decision on your job offer yet?" Bill spoke up, taking a gulp of water.

"Oh!" Hermione swallowed and fiddled with her napkin. "I've just spent the afternoon going over part of the contract. Once I've finished and have all my questions answered then I'll have to talk it over with George. My first impression is that it would be wonderful and I'd love to do it but since the time expectation runs fairly close to the Ministry's plans for I.M.P., I'm going to have to take that into account as well."

George reached over and squeezed her leg and she smiled at him.

"You can do whatever you like, Hermione. You don't need my permission," he laughed lightly.

"I know, but it's going to effect everything that I do for the next 12-18 months, which effects what we do. I just want to have all the facts so that we can do what's best here."

The table had quieted when they had conversed between them and when they both looked up, the other occupants quickly took up with more clattering and talking again. George leaned closer into Hermione.

"We can talk about it whenever you like, Hermione."

"Actually, I wanted to ask you on a date," Hermione bit the bullet and jumped straight into it. "I was thinking if I took the week to read over the contract and owl the editor then I would have a better understanding of things and then we could discuss it later this week."

George had set down his spoon and turned slightly in his seat, regarding her with the intent to uncover just what exactly was making her act slightly different. Hermione watched his eyes flick over her face and left her gaze unguarded intentionally. He must have found something for his eyes switched into a slight squint momentarily before he settled again.

"Friday?" he asked, turning back to his supper.

"Yes, I think so," Hermione let her breath out and took another bite, gazing down at her own bowl.

"Got anything planned?" George pressed and Hermione could hear the amusement in his voice without even looking at his face.

"Nope," she laughed. "I'll owl you later in the week."

"Excellent," George stated. When he had finished with his food a moment later, he reached and laid his palm on her leg once more and Hermione regarded the back of his hand for a moment before laying her own over it bravely, lacing her fingers with his once more. Ignoring the rushing sound in her ears, she finished her own supper and sat back, listening to the conversations ebbing around them.

* * *

><p>In the days after Sunday dinner, Hermione had poured over her contract aiming to fully comprehend every detail of the proposed agreement before she met George in two days time. She hadn't even given much though to the date she had asked him on but he had seemed happy to accept, plan or not.<p>

Monday and Tuesday had been spent much on the same way as Sunday in that Hermione took advantage of no rain and went out to both Regent's Park and Parliament Hill, respectively.

In her moments between reading and making notations, Hermione often found herself wondering again about what George saw when he indulged in a daydream. She hadn't let herself have one yet, thinking to get the bulk of her reading done before she allowed herself to take one and see what came to mind.

When she arrived home on Wednesday evening after spending the dismal day in a cafe in central London, she rolled her shoulders and tried to ease some tension that had built there from sitting on the wooden chair for so long. The entirety of her person was damp from the rain she had encountered on her way back and she shed her trench coat and clothing quickly.

A hot bath later, Hermione donned her pajamas and fuzzy socks and climbed into bed. As she lay on her side, she gazed at the flowers George had given her that she had charmed to stay fresh longer than they might normally have done. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, Hermione also considered the box that she hadn't moved.

She had done a lot of work in the last few days. Surely she could entertain a daydream now. She cracked the box with the pirate ship, handsome youth and swooning girl on the front, breaking the magical seal. She placed the box back on her side table and laid her head gently back on her pillow.

The effects were gentle but immediate.

Hermione felt a slight heaviness in her limbs come on slowly and around the edge of her vision began to blur softly. Her hooded eyelids also felt just a bit heavy and she let them fall closed when it became too much to keep them open. Colours swirled softly behind her eyelids and Hermione found herself sliding from daydream to daydream on a loop. She was dancing with George again and he was holding her close and whispering in her ear. She was on the couch reading with him again and he played with a curl between his fingers as she leaned against him. She was throwing herself into his arms and wrapping her legs around him, laughing happily at something. He was offering her some tea and she cradled the steaming mug on her lap and blew her nose, sniffling and taking large breaths to calm herself. And then her mind found one that it deemed especially worthy of consideration.

She was standing in the Weasley's front yard just a few steps from the front porch. Her booted feet crunched in the thin layer of snow that was falling in the night around her, snowflakes catching in her hair and eyelashes. The daydream seemed to solidify and become less blurry and she heard footsteps behind her. A mittened hand materialized and she brushed hair back on her forehead and under her toque. She felt George come to a stop beside her as he regarded the quiet yard with her.

"I just need one thing before I'm sure," she was saying and she turned her head to look at him.

Snow was catching on his shoulders and she reached over to brush it off. She grasped his coat zipper and pulled it higher up, trying to seal more of his warmth in with him. He just reached around her and tugged her closer to him and her hands fell to rest against his chest. His hair was as disheveled as it always was and his eyes glittered in the dark. Hermione was close enough to count his freckles, though she dare not start now or they'd be outside all night. She felt his eyes wander over her face familiarly, like a feather light touch, brushing over the arch of her cheek, the crease between her brows, the bow of her lips.

Their breath was puffing out in tiny clouds around them and the silence was consuming.

"What's that?" he asked softly, as softly as the falling snow settling on the trees lining the yard. Hermione had momentarily forgotten they had been having a conversation and searched for what her answer should be.

"Kiss me," she whispered, "_please_," the slight inflection of desperation in her voice that she prayed he would not tease her about, not just yet.

His bare hand moved from her waist to brush yet another snowy curl off her forehead and he leaned down. Hermione lowered her eyelids and reveled in the moments before his lips touched hers, when she was acutely aware of his breath on her face, his warm palm on her cool cheek, his fingers tucked up under her hat in her hair and the hitch of her own breath. Her eyelashes fluttered shut against her cheek and his nose brushed hers, bringing his mouth ever closer to his target-

And a great weight settled suddenly on her chest, startling her out of the most glorious moment that she had held so close.

"_Wha_-" Hermione's head shot up from her pillow and she found Crookshanks laying on her chest, close enough for his whiskers to tickle her face as she realised what he had done and fixed him with a glare. He responded with a deep purr and Hermione gave up and let her head fall back to the pillow.

She could feel her blood pumping through her veins quickly, not sure if it was from being startled or from what she had been imagining. She could feel a flush from her cheeks down her neck and chest and likely all the way to her toes. She felt inexplicably warm as she tried to calm her breathing.

She could still feel the tingling on her cheek where George's palm had rested against her skin. She still felt the snowflakes on her upturned face as he drew nearer and nearer and her heart clenched at the loss.

With a tingling in her extremities, she sighed.

"Oh, _bother_."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Happy Monday! (If it's still Monday where you are).**

**Much thanks for all the followers this has now. I'm watching that number climb higher by the day.**

**PLEASE leave a review. It helps motivate me to write faster.**


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione spent the night after using the Daydream Charm George had given her with her brain trying to remember the brief snippets she had seen and also trying to finish the main one she had had. When her eyes opened the next morning, she had the distinct feeling Dream Hermione had not accomplished her goal of finally kissing Dream George for she felt frustrated and hot and sweat was holding a few curls plastered to her forehead. Lovely.

Dream Hermione was nothing if not persistent, clearly.

Cursing her innate need to succeed in all things, including daydreams about kissing George Weasley, Hermione threw the covers off and shushed Crookshanks' squawking over the matter. Holding the half-kneazle to her chest despite his feeble attempts to escape, Hermione rose and shook her hair from its messy tangle as best she could. Hermione had the unmistakable inkling that today would not be productive and that her subconscious would spend a great deal of time trying to reconcile her dreams lest she spend another night fighting to get what she wanted out of some silly dreams.

Sighing, Hermione came to the conclusion that perhaps she could write George after figuring out what to do for their date tomorrow night. Maybe speaking to him would help ease some urgency from her determined subconscious.

Fearing that this road could lead equally either to quelling her inner desperation or exacerbating the situation entirely, Hermione let Crooks go and fetched some parchment and a quill that had seen better days.

_'George,_

_I am not sure if your Daydream Charm helped or hindered last night, for everything was going well and then suddenly I was most rudely interrupted in an inopportune time._

_Perhaps you were right about Crookshanks after all._

_As for our date tomorrow, the weather is supposed to be less then extraordinary so I think it's best to be indoors somewhere. If I can think of something muggle to do, would you be interested in expanding your horizons?_

_Rather out of sorts,_

_Hermione'_

This would mean that she would have to leave the house and charter an owl. Hermione sighed. She really should get one of her own one of these days.

If she wasn't going to be productive today, at least she would take the time to get ready. Maybe if she dressed nicer she would feel more like herself and less like her day was being dictated by a bloody imaginative... fantasy? Hermione sighed again and shook her head. What was happening to her?

With the cloud cover it wasn't particularly cold outside, but it was a bit drizzly. However Hermione was feeling like a little shock to her system may well do her good and she pulled some clothes from her closet. Maybe she would stop by the publishing house and speak to Amelia about a few of her questions, if she was free. That being said, Hermione pulled on a white blouse and tucked it into a high waisted, purple-toned floral print skirt with large flowers that looked like they were painted. The circle skirt hit her above the knee and she left her legs bare, slipping her feet into some suede ankle booties. The only time she paused in hesitancy was when she stood in front of the mirror and debated over what to do with her hair.

Yet again embracing messy-chic, Hermione ruffled it up and made a deep part, swooping her face framing pieces dramatically over her forehead and opposite eyebrow, tucking the lot of it behind her ear on the other side. A few hair grips for good measure and she twisted up from there, following low beside her hairline back towards her neck. When she reached the other side of her head behind her other ear, she slid some more grips in along where she had twisted and tucked the remaining tail of hair into a large, loose side bun. after pulling some hairs loose from around her face on one side to disguise the shoddy mess on the other, Hermione spelled it secure the way Ginny had taught her. Hopefully that would do the trick and fool them all into thinking she had some talent in the hair department. Bypassing makeup completely aside from her trusty mascara and a berry tinted lip balm, Hermione shrugged her trench on, grabbed her bag and umbrella and clasped the letter to George in her hand before leaving for Diagon Alley.

Casting a long glance up the way in the direction on Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Hermione hurried through the people to the owlery to send her letter. He was sure to suspect that she had had to come into Diagon Alley to send it because he had been to her place enough to know he had never seen an owl cage in her tiny apartment. After dispatching the tiny scops owl, Hermione dashed with a click of her boots up to the building, letting herself in the front door as she had done before.

The blonde secretary looked up at her and smiled.

"Ms. Granger! Welcome back!"

"Hello, I don't have an appointment but I was just wondering if Amelia was free at all today," Hermione approached the front desk and the woman flipped through a dayplanner on her desk in front of her.

"Unfortunately-"

"Ms. Granger!"

"Hello, Ms. Wordsmith!"

Amelia had appeared at the top of the staircase and clicked her way down.

"Is everything all right?" she inquired, leveling with Hermione with a smile.

"Oh, yes, of course. I was just in Diagon Alley and I thought I could ask you some questions if you were free."

"Unfortunately I'm on my way out to a lunch meeting and I'm booked full all afternoon. Eleanor, can you have a look at tomorrow?" Amelia asked the receptionist before turning back. "Would tomorrow work at all for you?"

"You have an open spot at four o'clock tomorrow afternoon, last slot of the day?"

Amelia raised her brows at Hermione.

"Oh, yes, that's fine!"

"Eleanor, please pencil Ms. Granger in for tomorrow afternoon," she announced. "And we shall see you at four o'clock," she finished with a smile as she reached for an overcoat hanging on a coat rack behind the front desk.

Hermione bid the women goodbye and ducked back out of the brick building. Pity she had not been able to speak to Amelia today but it _had _been a long shot. Heading back to the apparition point, Hermione realized that her efforts to distract herself from George may have ended up flopping, and she was heading home much earlier than she had planned.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Hermione stopped and turned to find Fred approaching her with his arms laden down with letters and packages, all precariously balanced.

"And you," Hermione approached and relieved him of a portion of his burden. "Just heading to the Post Office?"

"Yes," he shifted his remaining load. "Thanks for the help. That could have ended terribly. What brings you to Diagon Alley this afternoon? A trip to your favourite joke shop, perhaps?" Fred's eyes twinkled knowingly.

Hermione scoffed and they ambled a few shops up to Fred's destination, where Hermione had sent her letter to George not half an hour ago. He propped the door open with his foot for her to pass through.

"I was just making an appointment with the publisher for tomorrow afternoon, thank you," Hermione brushed past Fred with a gentle swing of her skirt and coat.

"Oh, and here I thought you might not be able to stay away from my twin, as it were," he quipped, smirking face observing her as he stood beside her in the short queue.

"What makes you say that?" Hermione tried her very hardest to keep her facial expression neutral.

"Well, you see, George just received a letter and he's been giddy ever since. I've come to associate that reaction with you. Perhaps I'm mistaken but he did write a response in no time flat. Let's see, it's here somewhere, we'll solve the mystery once and for all..."

Fred shuffled the letters and packages around until he found a small box wrapped in brown paper with a folded letter all tied together with brown string.

He presented it to her with a flourish and an expectant look.

"Go on, who's it for?"

Hermione snatched it out of his fingers.

"Yes, _thank _you," she huffed, cheeks pinkening.

"Well, _is _it for you?"

"_Yes_, you don't have to be so cocky."

"Oh, look at that. Real shocker, that is," Fred leaned against the counter as they moved up in the line. "Do I have to spell it out, Hermione? Why do you get so flustered?"

"Can we not do this right now, Fred?" Hermione cast a glance around them. The other witches and wizards waiting in the lineup with them were not paying a lick of attention to the two of them, but nonetheless Hermione had not really sorted herself out from her interrupted dreams and didn't much feel like explaining that to the brother of her... interest?

"Did you take that Charm yet? Is that what he's so thrilled about?"

Hermione gave him a warning look.

"That's a yes, then. What did you see? Cross my heart, I won't say a word."

"We both know you wouldn't have to speak to tell him," Hermione muttered.

"Oomph, Hermione. That hurt."

"Pity."

"You are positively _fierce _today. And with you looking all done up, too. I'll pass it on to George, I'm sure he needs more fodder for his obsession with those bloody Daydream Charms."

"_Goodbye_, Fred," Hermione flashed her eyes at him and turned to leave.

"Thanks for your help!" he called after her with a laugh.

Hermione made quick work of heading home and was relieved to arrive in her kitchen. After gazing at herself in her bathroom mirror noting her blush, she scolded herself. How completely transparent could one be?

She set herself down in her reading chair with the package in her lap. George's scrawl seemed a bit more rushed than normal. She opened the letter.

_'Hermione,_

_What sort of inopportune moment are we talking about here? Anything juicy?_

_From your comment on Crookshanks, I assume he is the one who rudely pulled you from a rather satisfying bout of imagination. Lock the beast in the bathroom next time._

_I always enjoy expanding my horizons._

_Yours,_

_George'_

Hermione grinned and wiggled her toes in her slippers.

_Lock the beast in the bathroom next time._

That meant that the package was likely...

Hermione pulled the brown paper off and was faced with a new Daydream Charm, excitement rushing through her limbs and bubbling her mood up immediately.

Should she save it until after their date tomorrow? What if she actually got to kiss him in the dream and it made her unbearably distracted when she saw him next?

Oh, _bother_. There was no holding out on it this time.

Hermione catapulted out of the leather chair and nudged Crookshanks into the bathroom as George has suggested before flopping into bed with a pronounced bounce. Nothing was going to interrupt her _this _time.

With her heart beating near frantic and her breath coming in short huffs, Hermione opened the box just as she had the night before.

It felt exactly the same in every way except she was much more tense and anticipatory leading up to the main event.

The daydream charm lulled her gently down, down, down, lapping at her sense of reality like waves breaking on a pebbly Brighton beach. The foamy, frothy edges became the fuzzy fringe of her vision and as expected, her eyelids became too heavy to keep open.

The setting was much the same but it had started differently, her subconsciousness not bothering with any other imaginary scenarios this time around.

The night was pitch around them and the snow was falling just as it had before, settling ever so delicately on the scene around her. This time, however, she was just leaving the back door as opposed to merely standing in the yard and she heard footsteps behind her coming down the hall and following her onto the porch. She continued down the three steps there and crunched into the grass, feeling the slip and compression of the dusting of snow there under her boots once again.

"It's December 1st," he voiced, following her still.

Her mittened hand once again tucked some of her fringe under her toque after brushing some snow from her locks.

"I just need one thing before I'm sure," she was saying _again _and she turned her head to look at him.

She brushed the snowflakes from his shoulders and adjusted the zipper of his coat. Predictably he reached for her and pulled her close to his chest, and she let her mittens settle there. His eyes searched her face as if it was well-explored and familiar topography.

The haze of their warm breaths rose around them, dissipating quickly.

"What's that?" he questioned softly.

"Kiss me," she whispered again, "_please_," desperation just as evident as before and he did not tease her.

He cupped her cheek with his bare hand, his palm searing her in the crispness of the winter night. This and other things she became acutely aware of while frozen, waiting for her moment to come; His fingers in her hair, warmth, her hitched breathing, eyelashes fluttering closed, all the same.

Hermione's heart stopped.

And then suddenly his lips were brushing hers, testing, as if this were the first time. Maybe it was the first time? She didn't know. All she knew was that this was probably the best feeling in the whole entire world, to be clasped in his arms, held close for warmth and so much more. The hand holding her face nudged her just infinitesimally and she acquiesced, tilting into him and rising on her booted toes.

Taking her content sigh as invitation, George pressed ever firmly and lifted her with the arm still about her waist as high as she would come off the ground without leaving it completely. Her mittened hands had abandoned his chest and clutched at the back of his neck and she heard nothing but the protracted whisper of a groan at the back of his throat. In instinctive response Hermione's hips pressed to him, searching for what, she was too distracted to know.

Without her even knowing it George had directed her a few steps backward, shuffling through the thin coat of snow with no thought. When her back found a support post for the front porch and George's hips found hers once more, she realized with a gasp and a flood of heat exactly what she had been searching for just moments before.

They broke and the pair of them heaved rather shaky breaths and Hermione noted that her cheeks burned so red that the falling snow likely evaporated on contact. George's hips pulled away slightly and Hermione felt the loss as keenly as she had felt the need for them. In compensation, George rested his equally flushed forehead on hers, reaching up to brush a bare thumb over her cheek gently.

"So?" he breathed after a few long moments and lifted his head. His eyes search hers deeply, looking for any sign of an answer.

"Yes," she nodded, fluttering her eyelashes against her cheek at his intense perusal.

"Yes what?" he pressed on, his hand once again finding her cheek and directing her gaze upward again, meeting his.

"_Yes_, I'll marry you!"

And with that she was lighter and lighter still until her bedroom swam back into view, feeling vague until reality permeated her consciousness fully and Hermione realized she had the silliest gobsmacked grin on her face and a somewhat wanton ache in her heart and other areas of her body.

Well.

She was well and truly buggered now.

* * *

><p>Waking late the morning of her meeting and of her date Hermione scribbled a quick note to George once more, her stomach twisting as she spelled his name out on the parchment. She informed him of her meeting and her intention to drop by the shop afterwards to pick him up for the evening.<p>

Even though she had woken up late in the day, it was still not noon and Hermione had a lot of time to kill before she had to leave, post the note and meet Amelia. As she sat at her kitchen island on a stool and eating cereal, she noted that Dream Hermione had been infinitely successful recreating her daydream. She knew this for she woke with the same ache she had felt the night before but it seemed to have grown exponentially, however impossible it seemed for that to happen last night.

How was she ever going to get through the night without devouring him whole at the sight of his hands, the same ones that had pulled her tight against him the night before? With the certain grin on his lips when she could remember vividly her body's reaction when those lips had seized her own?

Hermione knew she was in for a difficult and trying night but somehow that did not dissuade her from her plans. As difficult as it would be to keep her hands off his person even if she did throw away her morals completely, she could not deny herself his company even if she tried. She didn't think she'd ever wanted to be in the same room as much with another person in her life.

What?

Hermione sighed.

This was ridiculous.

It was September 25th, less than a month from when she found out she may have to marry George Weasley. She had gone from not ever really considering him as a suitor to craving his attentions in the matter of 25 days.

What had he said to her that first outing?

_I warn you, I am going to knock your socks off. You won't need three months to decide, love._

How in the world was she ever going to last long enough with thoughts like these running through her head to make it to December 1st as they had agreed?

Bollocks.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And that's chapter 10 for you! A longer note than usual, I'm afraid.**

**By now you have likely sussed that this fic is rated M and I assure you it is for a good reason. If you have ever read my other fic with this same couple, Educational Decree, you know the direction in which we are heading (regardless of the fact I wrote that years ago). That being said, if an M rating is not your cup of tea I won't hold it against you if you abandon ship. **

**I know this was not the real life kiss many of you might have been hoping for but baby steps! I know for a fact Hermione enjoyed this complete daydream and I hope you did too.**

**As always, reviews motivate me and we are getting closer to them kissing in real life so I shall leave that in your capable hands, reader.**

**Until next chapter.**

**Cheers**


	11. Chapter 11

Every time Hermione tried to concentrate on what she was doing, her brain found a way to pull her back to her dream kiss with George and her lips would tingle. Brushing her fingers along the bow of her upper lip, Hermione pushed back against the thought for the umpteenth time and pulled on some casual clothing. Her plan for their date would require movement and also comfort.

Her fingers found her cheek where his thumb had brushed.

Right.

That was enough harping on about something that wasn't even real.

_Yet_, a little voice niggled inside.

She was going to get herself into trouble with this line of thinking.

"Hermione Granger, that is enough!" Hermione's own voice left her mouth slightly modified as she scolded herself in a fair impersonation of her mother. "You stop this right now before you dig yourself a hole even deeper than you have already!"

Leaving herself no time to consider going back on her own admonition, Hermione gathered her papers and notes in her old school case and left for M. L. Books.

The Alley was in full afternoon swing, people milling about everywhere; mothers with young children, businessmen and bankers, peddlers, all streaming past Hermione as she exited the safe apparition point. She made her way to the old red brick building and entered.

"Ms. Granger, Amelia asked me to send you straight up when you arrived. Would you like some tea?" Eleanor asked kindly from her seat, marking something off in the paper had in front of her.

"No thank you, not today!" Hermione dashed up the stairs to the office she had met with Amelia in before and knocked on the door frame, peeking in the opening.

"Come on in, Ms. Granger. I was just getting set up for you," Amelia Wordsmith's voice met her ears and Hermione toed the door open fully. As she had stated, Amelia was shuffling some papers into a pile and setting them aside, clearing her desk off. Hermione smiled and sat in the seat across from her quickly. "You have a few questions for me?"

"Yes, I just wanted to clarify some points. Forgive me, but I can't help but be thorough..."

"That is one of the reasons we have asked you on this project with us, so please, ask away," Amelia chuckled goodheartedly.

Amelia helped Hermione through her questions in the next hour and before she knew it, Hermione was splitting her face with her grin and dropping her case off at home, making sure she had muggle money in her pocket before she left again. Wading through the people, Hermione made her way to the front door of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and slipped in the front door after a young boy hopped out.

Searching for George, Verity pointed her upstairs and Hermione climbed the stairs. She found the twins entertaining a gaggle of amazed children and curious parents with a pair of Headless Hats. Hermione watched in awe as they roused the small crowd and played the children's excitement off one another. She saw more than a few looks of pure admiration, astonishment, and perhaps even worship. Every time she was faced with how much the twins single-handedly provoked this reaction from other people, her appreciation of their talents shot up exponentially. She had never seen a pair of people who strived as hard to put a smile on every face in the room, and they truly loved what they did.

When they wrapped up and came to a close and the crowd had dissipated back into the store after praising them, George's eyes immediately found Hermione's and he approached her as she leant against the bannister overlooking the floor below.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" he slipped his hands into his pockets.

"I said I was coming to get you after... _I forgot to send the note_," Hermione raised her palm to her forehead.

"Oh well, ne'mind, you're here now. What did it say?" George chuckled at her forgetfulness.

"That I had a meeting at four with my publisher and then I would come get you after that and to wear something comfortable," Hermione motioned to her jeans and cardigan with a sweep.

"Well, give me a mo' and I'll change and you can whisk me away on a muggle adventure where I will undoubtedly make a fool of myself and you will enjoy it immensely," George grinned at her and took off down the stairs calling Fred. "Fred?Fred! I'm leaving! My true love is here to take me away to a ball, or to live with dwarves, or turn me into a merman. I'm not sure which one, but I'll be gone until later!"

"Is that true?" Fred's horrified expression met Hermione after she had followed George down at a normal pace, him having disappeared to change.

"I think he has his muggle fairytales mixed up," Hermione laughed and patted Fred on the shoulder. "There will be no mermen, dwarves or balls."

"What sort of a date do you call that, then?" Fred drawled in a low voice, dropping his previous expression and giving Hermione a devilish smirk. She blushed, realizing what she had said and turned for the door.

"Tell him his enchanted carriage awaits outside," she called over her shoulder, fixing him with a glare.

A few minutes later George came strutting out of his shop dressed much the same as Hermione was, beat up sneakers and all. With his fingers tucked in his pockets again, Hermione's eyes were drawn to his slim hips and she shook herself as he crossed the Alley to get to her.

"_You _said there was a carriage, you liar," he ruffled his hair a bit as he drew up to her.

"That was just to get you to hurry up," Hermione confessed with a shrug and a smirk and they set off up the Alley.

"So where are we headed?" he asked lightly, pressing closer to her side to squeeze by other patrons of the magical community.

"Have you ever heard of 'bowling'?" Hermione very much doubted he had.

"I don't think so."

"This is going to be hilarious," Hermione's voice jumped in excitement.

"For me or for you, Granger?"

"What do _you _think, Weasley?"

"This'll be the last time I do anything muggle with you, I can just tell."

"Just take my hand," Hermione offered her palm to him as they slipped into the apparition point.

"What makes you think I want to hold it now?" he snarked sarcastically, reaching for her anyway.

They reappeared in a tiny alleyway in muggle London and it happened to be pouring rain when they did. Hermione kept George's hand clasped in hers as they dashed through puddles to the end and she pulled him around the corner, a few doors down and into a shop front. George quickly muttered a charm under his breath and Hermione felt herself heat up and dry in a matter of moments.

"Did you just do that wandlessly?" she gawked.

"Well, the Statute of Secrecy has been in place since the sixteenth century, love," George quipped.

"Seventeenth. It's been in place since the _seven_teenth century," Hermione corrected him with a eye roll and she turned to traipse down the carpeted stairs, which were the only thing inside the front door aside from a bulletin board and an umbrella stand full of damp umbrellas.

"What is this place again?" George asked, following her.

"It's a bowling alley," Hermione had reached the bottom of the second flight. "Just try to keep from any loud wizard proclamations about muggles and their strange ways, alright? Or I might be forced to gag you."

"Is that a promise?" George needled and he flashed her a dazzling smile when she poked her head back around the pillar to glare at him coming down the stairs after her.

"What size are your feet?" she asked. She was ignoring his innuendo, hoping she could keep her head in his presence for at least a little longer than five minutes. She felt the familiar burning sensation on her face and cursed herself.

"Who's asking, because you know what they about the size of a man's feet?" George's grin was widening by the moment as he followed her around the corner at the bottom of the steps and was greeted by a bored looking man of about 60 with a long beard and a slightly greasy, balding head.

"That they dictate the size of bowling shoes he wears?" It was Hermione's turn to smirk as his grin dropped from his face.

"46," George pasted a practiced innocent expression on his face as the man turned to find his size from the back wall. Hermione was toeing out of her own sneakers and George followed suit, setting his large ones on the counter beside her small ones.

"What _do _they say about a man's foot size?" Hermione whispered conspiratorially as she pulled a few muggle notes from her pocket with a small smile.

"Wouldn't _you _like to know," George answered with an eyebrow quirk. "You can get this, right, but I'm getting dinner. _Nope_, no use arguing," he overrode her as she opened her mouth to protest.

"But _I _asked _you _on this date, so shouldn't I be paying?" she pressed.

"I'm putting my size 46 foot down here, love. Dinner's on me, you get this 'bowling' business."

The employee set down two pairs of shoes in horridly lurid colours and hooked a thumb to the side. "Lane 11 is all yours," he gestured.

"Come on. I'll show you what this 'bowling business' is all about," Hermione pushed his side in the direction the man had thumbed them in, noting the shape of his ribs beneath her her palms, and they walked in socked feet past the muggles already there. Hermione observed as George stared in puzzled wonder as he watched one man throw a large ball down a 3 and a half foot wide strip of wood with a loud bang on impact and it rolled towards the opposite end of the lane where ten funny white bottles stood.

They came to a semicircle of plastic chairs in front of the lane numbered 11 and Hermione stepped down into the recess they were set in and sat to put her bowling shoes on.

"Come on, they won't kill you."

"Are you sure?" he asked holding up the shoes for emphasis.

"Yes, just put them on," she laughed.

"So what is this all about then?" George asked, lacing up.

"Well," Hermione pointed to the funny white bottles at the end of their lane, "those are called 'pins' and you try to knock them over with the 'bowling ball', that's those over there on the rack waiting for us."

"That's it?" George asked incredulously.

"It's harder than it looks!" Hermione scoffed.

"Alright, show me, then!" George challenged her, gibing.

"Okay," Hermione drawled, approaching the rack. "You take a bowling ball, like this with your fingers in the openings, like this, and you - watch out, back up - and you roll it down the centre of the lane-" she pulled her arm back after he moved to the side and let it go on the forward swing, "-and you try not to let it roll into the gutter. Those are the two sort of trenches on the side. You're trying to knock down as many pins in two turns as you can because the pins are each worth one point, and you want as many points as you can get." She knocked over five pins.

"Obviously," George followed her.

"Obviously," Hermione replied, grabbing another ball and holding it in front of herself.

"So why two turns and not three?" George questioned and Hermione laughed and backed up in front of the lane again as she had just done.

"Because those are the rules, George," she answered and made use of some fancy footwork before letting the second ball go running down the lane.

"I forgot you were one of those," he remarked offhandedly.

"One of what?" Hermione's hands found her hips and she blew some hair out of her eyes.

"Those rule-abiders," he grinned. "My turn now?"

"Yes, I'm just going to mark what I got. See, the pinsetter sweeps up the pins that are still standing and sets up ten new ones for your turn. So I use this sheet here-" Hermione threw herself down into one of two chairs set in the middle of the semicircle with an attached desk. On it sat a piece of paper with markings that made no sense to George but Hermione seemed to know what she was doing. "-and I record how many points I got in that frame."

"What's a frame?"

"It's basically what your turn is called in bowling, the two balls I threw."

"Okay," George approached the ball rack and made to pick one up.

"Careful, they're heavy!"

"_Cor_, couldn't have warned me before, Granger?!" George nearly dropped the bowling ball on his foot. Lucky for her, he was still grinning. "So I just roll this thing down the lane then?"

"Yup, _roll _it, don't _throw _it," Hermione stressed and watched from her seat as he shuffled his maroon and lime shoes in front of their lane and tried to mimic the movements Hermione had just showed him. When he bent over on his release Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, trying her hardest not to stare at his backside as he did so. The ball he threw went about six or seven feet before rolling straight into the gutter and she laughed.

"I get another turn?"

"Yes," she continued to titter behind him.

"That's enough from you, peanut gallery," he picked up his second ball and went to stand very close to the line marking the beginning of the lane. Hermione's laugh only grew louder as he spread his legs and bent forward, cradling the ball with both palms. Swinging back past his knees with a grunt, he released the ball from his bent position and it rolled more or less down the centre of the lane this time. Hermione near cackled when the ball slowed to a crawl and he stood in front of her making impatient motions as if it would pick up speed for him if he made them. When it finally reached the end of the lane, it took down two pins at a snail's pace. Hermione was wiping tears from under her eyes when he came to sit beside her at the desk.

"So how many points is that for me?" he ignored her shaking with an upturned nose, humour in his eyes.

"Two," she gasped out and handed him the short pencil she was holding. As he plucked it from her fingers, their hands brushed and Hermione quieted.

"Where do I put that?" George asked, concentrating on the paper and missing her reaction entirely.

"Just there," she pointed, making an effort to avoid brushing him again.

The two of them carried on until they had reached the end of their second game. Muggles had filled up the remaining lanes around them and the sound of the bowling balls, pins falling, and loud talking was overwhelming.

"Popular, bowling?" George asked as they vacated their lane and traded in their rented shoes for their own.

"I suppose so," Hermione answered, pulling the back lip of her sneaker up over her heel and waiting for him to do the same. The two of them climbed back up the stairs and Hermione hoped the rain had let off a bit in the time they had been inside.

"Do you go often? You seemed to know what you were doing," George commented.

"Oh, sometimes. Harry and I go occasionally, and sometimes Ginny comes as well," Hermione answered, stepping out into the cooler air outside.

"Is there a place you want to go for dinner near here?" George asked, following her.

"How do you feel about Italian?"

"I could go for some pasta," he answered and grinned when she reached out to take his hand in hers and pull him down the block. In short order they arrived at a small restaurant and he ushered her inside into the warmth. They were seated momentarily at a small booth and Hermione pulled off her cardigan and sipped her ice water under George's watchful eyes.

"So did you enjoy your first bowling experience?" she questioned, looking at him over her glass.

"Yes, but I daresay you enjoyed it more," he quipped back, laughing.

"Yes, well, it would have been hard for me not too," she tallied, giggling.

Giggling?

_Dear Merlin, Hermione._

"So I spoke with my potential publisher today," she continued.

"And?" George pulled his own sweater over his head, leaving his hair in messy disarray.

"She answered some of my questions about things. I've read through the contract now, and I wanted to talk to you about it."

"Like I said before, Hermione," she melted a little as her first name slid off his lips, "you can do whatever you like. It's your decision, not mine," he responded mildly.

"And as _I_ said before, I know, but it will have an impact on our plans especially since the timing of the job is just about parallel to the timing of the I.M.P." Hermione shifted.

At that moment their waiter arrived with fresh bread warm from the oven with garlic butter on the side. Hermione stomach growled loudly when the smell of it reached her nose. They ordered quickly and he left moments later.

"Alright, well you still want to take the job, right? So whatever the timeline is, we'll work around it. No big deal," George tore off a piece of bread, steam wisping up from the plate. As she watched, he buttered it and held the knife out for her to do the same.

"Why are you being so... nonchalant about this?" Hermione broke off her own piece of bread.

"Well," George started and took a bite, thinking as he chewed. "I can see that this offer makes you happy. And who am I to tell you you shouldn't do something that makes you happy? I _left school _to be happy. I'm all about following your heart and all that bollocks, right?"

Hermione laughed and took a large bite of her own, her stomach roiling in success and devouring it on contact.

"I suppose. I hadn't thought of it that way. I always thought you left because you couldn't stand Umbridge," Hermione trailed off.

"Well, yeah, that was a large part of it, but we were also just not cut out for finishing Hogwarts, I don't think. Essay writing and test taking are just not our cup of tea. It was really holding us back from carrying on with the business and by the time Umbridge set up shop, we were just waiting to have everything lined up to go, really. She just spurred us on more, I think. If it had still been old Dumbledore I reckon we would have lasted the year before leaving formal education," George answered in full.

Hermione pondered and took another bite.

"So why don't you tell me what's got you so concerned and we'll figure this out just like we did a month ago with the bloody law?" George fixed her with a serious look as he drank a large mouthful from his own water.

"Well, it's just that the contract is for 12 months from the date I sign, with the option to extend to 18 months if there are any unexpected life things that get in the way of me doing my job. That means if I signed tomorrow, I'd have until September 26th, 1999 to have everything fully edited and ready to send to print, with the option to extend to March 26th, 2000. Follow me?"

George nodded.

"By March 1st, 2000, just before that end date for the book project, is when we have to have our first child by, meaning I'm going to be pregnant for a chunk of the time I'm writing the book. It's just a lot going on at the same time, that's all."

"But," George started, "if we married, we get an extra 18 months to have our first child, solidly separating the two things. You could have the next 12 months to concentrate on your book and everything that goes along with that, and then after, we can start with the kiddie business. No overlap, right? If you get your book done in the 12 months they're asking for with no extensions, we still have two years after that, until September 1st, 2001. Am I right with these dates here?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded.

"So... What are you worried about?"

Hermione concentrated on the table top and fingered the white linen cloth covering it.

"Come on, it can't be that hard to say," George commented softly.

"Well, what if we decide not to get married? Then everything will be happening at once, and what if something goes wrong? Things happen, George, like maybe we have trouble getting pregnant, or maybe I stress out too much and have a miscarriage-"

"Hermione," George reached across the small table, pushing the bread to the side and pulling her hands up to sit in his. "Hermione, I won't deny that there might be complications, because life is full of them. But this is something you want to do and I won't let you turn it down because of inconvenient timing. The only reason I would be okay with for you turning down this opportunity would be if you genuinely decided this wasn't something you wanted to do. And you'd have a hard time convincing me after having seen your reaction to the offer so far."

Hermione just stared, trying to think of something to say.

"How about we talk about the marriage thing again, then? It would obviously give us more time, and give you the chance to do this without worrying about the requirements of what the Ministry wants," George broached the subject tentatively.

"Well, yes, but I don't want to ask you to do that just for me-"

"Hermione the fact of the matter is I would do anything for you. And besides-" George said a little more forcibly, "-what it really comes down to is that if we don't marry by next September, they'll assign us to new people anyway. You know as well as I do what Mafalda Hopkirk said when she visited. So we might as well put the part where we pretend we still have a choice aside."

"But you still have a choice! You can choose not to marry me!"

"You have the same choice, you make it sound like I'm the one who gets to decide for the both of us," George laughed and broke the tension.

"But you still have the choice," Hermione reiterated.

"I think we both know I've made up my mind already."

Hermione froze.

What?

"But we were going to wait until December 1st," she voiced weakly, part of her daydream surfacing in her mind, snow falling, his arms around her and his lips...

"Yes, but..." George looked to be unsure of what to say. "Look, regardless of how I feel about you beyond that of a friend, the pros to marrying are far too great to ignore. More time, more happiness, more money as I assume you'll be raking in the dough much like myself before too long. Hermione, your safety matters a great deal to everyone we know; right now that safety rests in my hands. So unless you say there's no way that you can learn to live with me, I mean absolutely no way in hell, then really, what's the worry about?"

George fell silent and Hermione rolled his words around in her head. He left one of his hands holding hers and pulled back a bit to have a drink of water and let her digest things, keeping an eye on her face all the same. Hermione realized he was knowingly giving her time to think about what he had said and gave him a small smile in thanks. He seemed to be in no rush to prompt her so she took her time.

Everything he had said had been true. The real root of the matter was if they did not marry, they would be forced to marry other people and Hermione had already thought that they would likely match her with another pureblood and that pureblood could be a hell of a lot worse than George Weasley.

So she would marry him.

Hermione let out a long unsteady breath.

"Come to a conclusion then?"

It looked like she would not be waiting until December 1st to accept his game plan.

"Okay. So let me get this straight. We'll marry in the next 12 months-"

"More like 11 now that September is almost over," he interjected.

"-11 months then, and I'll take the job and spend a year completing it and then after that we can worry about having kids before September 1st, 2001. That's about three years from now. That's what you're saying?"

"Yes." His face showed no negative expression that Hermione could see. In fact, he looked quite serious and genuine.

Another breath.

Their food arrived in the silence and the waiter sensed it was an awkward moment, retreated after setting down their pasta and offering cheese.

"Okay," Hermione answered softly. She realized she had barely moved an inch since he had started his dialogue and she hadn't moved at all while considering what he had said either. She shifted and took another sip of water and pushed some hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"Okay?" George questioned hopefully.

"Yes, okay," Hermione reaffirmed. "Everything you've said makes sense. There's nothing to argue about."

George stared open mouthed at her.

"What?" she questioned, unsure.

"People will _never _believe that Hermione Granger just told George Weasley there was nothing to argue about."

"Certainly not," Hermione laughed lightly and picked up her fork.

George did the same and they fell in to a comfortable silence. A few minutes passed by and both remained quiet and thoughtful.

"So, with that out of the way, you're going to take the job, yes?"

"Yes, I should think so," Hermione answered after swallowing.

"Right and that means that you'll have until the end of next September to finish this project, provided you sign in the next week?"

"Mhm," Hermione responded.

"And we have until September 1st next year to tie the knot?" George was sorting through things in his head.

"Mhm," Hermione acknowledged again.

"Right so, the question now is how long do we wait? If we put it off until the end of the time limit, you'll be busy with the book. Is that something you want?"

"Can I... Can I think on it?" Hermione was not really sure what he was saying or what she was thinking at this point.

"Yeah, of course. You just let me know," George sat back with a smile and finished his dinner.

After they had finished and George had paid the check in muggle money Hermione was pleased to see he had on him already, the two exited the restaurant and ambled down the sidewalk quietly, stepping over the few puddles that remained from the day's earlier deluge.

"So..." Hermione started, wondering if she should even ask at this point since their date had been very intense towards the end. "Are you ever going to tell me what you see when you use a Daydream Charm?"

She looked up in time to see George's pondering face split into an expression of great amusement.

"Well, why don't you tell me first, Granger?"

"Well, I..." Hermione trailed off, cheeks tingling in anticipation for the burning. "I see us kiss."

George stopped suddenly and he started laughing, gently at first and then building up louder and his body shook. Hermione watched in horror as he laughed at her admission. After she had opened up about something so intimate. He was just _laughing _at her.

The nerve!

Hermione felt tears prick the corner of her eyes as he clutched his midsection and she shook off the hand he had braced on her shoulder to keep him upright.

"You just _laugh _at me? How insensitive can you _be_, George Weasley?" she glared down at him for a moment before taking off into the alleyway they had arrived in and she heard George's laughter cease and his footsteps coming after her.

"Hermione, wait!" George's confused voice called out. "Herm-"

"No! Leave me alone!" Hermione spun on the spot and disapparated, hot tears beginning to run down her cheeks.

When she arrived home she immediately whipped out her wand and threw up some wards to keep George from following her into her apartment. There was a loud crack that came from the landing outside her front door, out in the staircase of the muggle building.

"Ow, _bugger_!" came George's hissed voice as he tried to apparate in and met Hermione's wards. "Mother of- _Morgana_, that stings!"

"Go away, George! I don't want to talk to you!" Hermione choked out.

"Hermione, please! Let me in! It wasn't what you thought! I wasn't-"

"I said I don't want to talk to you!" Hermione hollered, scrubbing her face dry with her sleeve and standing as far away from the door as she could manage in the small space.

"But Hermione!" George's hand made contact with the door and he banged it a few times, rattling the wood in it's frame. "I'm trying to tell you-"

"I don't care what you have to say! You laughed in my face! Stop banging on my door and go away!"

Silence fell and Hermione strained to hear if he made any noise.

She heard him growl under his breath and pause before his heavy steps retreated down the stairs of her building and she distantly heard the front door slam on the ground floor.

She made it to a count of five before sliding to the floor and breaking down in tears, sobs wracking her small frame and Crookshanks tried to climb into her lap to comfort her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know, I know. Lovely George/Hermione interaction for the bulk of the chapter and then BOOM. But what's a good story without a bit of strife, eh?**

**Leave me a review and tell me what you think this all means! Our poor couple, what will happen now?**

**Until next chapter.**

****Please review; I slaved over this one!****

**Cheers**


	12. Chapter 12

She was very confused.

And she was very upset.

It was a very _confused _upset.

Hermione had spent the rest of the evening crying until she had both no moisture left to expel and until she grew so stiff sitting on the ground that she had no choice but to relocate to her bed. Crookshanks had tried his very earnest to comfort her but had settled at some point in the night just to be near her through her fitful sleep. When Hermione cracked her eyes the next morning, her face still puffy from the evening's activities, she found she had not moved from where she had dropped herself to her mattress. She still lay atop her covers in the clothes she had worn to the bowling alley.

Saturday had passed much the same and fresh tears sprung willingly to her eyes and she marveled at her ability to shed tears at the drop of a hat. Just two days ago she had been obsessing over a kiss and reveling in his company as if it was the only thing that could sustain her. Today she was crying her heart out at the mere memory of what a Saturday alone with her thoughts had brought on.

Hermione was never one for melodrama to this extent and she had spent her day alone pondering her reaction with not much in the way to relieve her. Owls had tried to deliver letters but Hermione had ignored them long enough that they had left, and people had come to her front door knocking gently and asking if she was alright. People she loved dearly but could not face; Ginny, Harry and even Ron had made an attempt to talk to her and offer help but she turned them all away without even opening the door.

Now that Sunday had dawned bright and early and irritating, Hermione had to face the fact that she had not showered or changed the day before, eaten anything or taken care of herself in any sense of the word.

Baby steps.

She rose slowly, as if every joint ached and pained her to do so and she shuffled to the bathroom, nearly tripping over her shoes.

Well she did take those off then.

Crookshanks followed her with a rather shocked expression, waiting to see her demeanor before requesting food.

After a few minutes in the bathroom, Hermione emerged much the same woman as she went in as. Her hair was mess, matted on one side where she had let her tears collect as she lay on her side. Her face was red and puffy, most notably under her eyes which were red-rimmed. Her clothes were twisted on her body, centre seams not quite sitting right. Uncharacteristically, Hermione stared down at her t-shirt, taking a moment to fully comprehend the shear volume it had soaked up over the past day and a bit.

At the precise moment that Hermione began to grasp how disgusting she felt, there was a timid knock at her front door.

"Ginny, I don't want to talk to anyone yet," Hermione responded wearily.

"It's not Ginny. Or Harry. Or Ron," the voice answered gently. "Please open up."

Hermione hesitated. What had possessed him to visit after she had turned away her closest friends? Whatever his reason was, it was probably not good enough but she found herself unlocking the dead bolt all the same, slowly exposing his concerned face.

"Oh, _Hermione _-" he started at the sight of her and she took two more steps forward into Fred's open arms. Amid her sobs and unintelligible blubbering, he managed to pat her back reassuringly and move them inside, closing the door behind him. "I never in my life expected to see you this broke up over something, much less my brother. Or any man for that matter, even if he is just about as handsome as I am."

Hermione hiccuped into his chest and he gripped her tighter.

"It's okay. Calm down. Let's have a look at you," he pushed away to hold her at arms length and took in her appearance. "Alright. You need cleaning up before we do anything else. Here, have a hot shower, a nice long one," she allowed him to shuffle her in the direction of her bathroom, "and I'll go get some coffees and, what do you like best, croissants, cookies, donuts...? What does your little heart desire?"

"Croissants," Hermione answered lamely with a sniffle she admitted sounded quite pathetic.

"Okay, I'll be back in half an hour. Hot shower, clean clothes, you'll be right as rain. If there is only one thing you do today, let it be this, alright?" Fred patted her shoulder again sympathetically and waited until she had closed the door behind her and the water turned on.

Hermione heard the front door open and close again and she stripped slowly. By the time she was ready to climb into the shower, the hot water had fogged up most of the bathroom thickly and she hissed as she slid her body purposefully under the stream. After standing in one spot with the water beating a relentless melody on her back, Hermione finally reached for her shampoo and soaped her locks up. Conditioner followed along with running a wide tooth comb through the tangled mass and soon she had it slicked smooth and rinsed. After scrubbing her body clean and washing her face thoroughly, Hermione shut off the water and stepped out of the tub. Hoping Fred wasn't back yet, she ventured out into the main area to find it still blissfully empty and she grabbed some clean clothes from her dresser, retreating back to the bathroom to change lest Fred arrive to find her in a compromising position.

Hermione pulled on her basic ensemble of jeans and a t-shirt and donned an old blue kangaroo hoodie that was worn soft from age and use. Stepping out again, she stood observing her quiet apartment with a sense of emptiness. For the first time in a very long time she didn't know what to do in her own home; it was already clean, Fred must have put food in Crookshanks' dish because it hadn't been her, and she didn't want to read.

_She didn't want to read._

How had this...

How had she _let _this happen? How had Hermione Granger let her relationship with George Weasley determine her happiness? And, more importantly, _when _had that happened?

And of all the people who had come to try and drag her out of her sorrows in the last day and a half, how had _Fred _been the one she actually let in?

As if he had heard his name in her thoughts the ginger reappeared, opening the front door with a whoosh and parading in. He had a tray with two large coffees in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.

"You look _much _better, no offense. It's just that the descriptors 'crusty' and 'matted' don't look good on anyone. Again, no offense."

Hermione gave a meek smile and accepted his offer of a hot coffee and a flaky croissant. She pulled back the covers on her bed and nestled herself under them with her back leaning against her pillow-stacked headboard. She took a tiny sip and was immediately grateful for Fred's interruption this morning. The hot liquid slid smoothly down her throat, spreading the warmth behind it. Even though she had just had a scalding shower, Hermione still felt a little cold and empty after it all. She had a sneaking suspicion it was more emotional than physical in nature.

"Alright," Fred settled himself in her reading chair that he had turned to face her in her bed, "feel a bit better now?"

"Yes, thank you," she answered, another meek smile on her lips.

"I know it might seem weird that I'm here, since the prat who pissed you off is my twin, but... He's been kicking himself since he got home on Friday night, right upset over something. I gather he's upset with _himself_, mind you, and not with you. But how are you doing?" Fred popped the plastic top of his coffee and took a large sip.

"I'm... Confused. And upset. And..." Hermione trailed off hesitantly.

"And?" Fred prompted after a few beats of silence.

"And I'm not really sure... why being upset with George is... so terrible?" she finished unsurely, not really certain of how to say these things to Fred, considering.

"Do you mean that you're confused as to how George cocking things up makes you so upset?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well..." Fred paused, solemn. "Well, maybe it's because you like him."

Fairly simple. Hermione stared down at her coffee.

"I mean, maybe you care more about him now than you did before. Why else would you get so worked up instead of brushing it off like you did when we were in school and you were miffed at us?" Fred continued.

"I didn't brush it off; I yelled at you and gave you detention," Hermione scoffed quietly, suddenly just a tinge ashamed that she had treated them the way she had, even though she had believed so fervently then that she was doing the right thing.

"Yes, but a bit of hollering and back and forth and you were off to scold other people and dock other house points. You didn't shut yourself away and refuse to take care of yourself," Fred chuckled.

Hermione had to concede that he was right.

"I suppose..."

"Hermione, you do realize it's okay if you care for him, right? In fact, it would make everything a lot easier if you did," Fred stated. That was the second time someone had told her as much.

Hermione sent him a quizzical look.

"You guys are looking at years and years of having to coexist somehow. And I know he cares about you. If the last few weeks hadn't tipped me off, the last few days certainly have," Fred answered.

"What do you mean, the last few weeks?" Hermione pressed.

"You'll have to ask him about that. But he's fretting himself silly over you being upset with him. He's wearing a hole through the living room floorboards! Please, for my sanity if not his, talk to him," Fred begged, slight smile still poking through his pleading expression.

"But he..." Hermione started and then stopped, tears collecting along her waterline.

"He what, Hermione?"

"He laughed at me."

Fred was silent for a moment.

"I assume you mean... actually, I'm lost. I'm not going to pretend I know what you mean with that. You know he laughs at everything? It's sort of his job to find humour wherever he can," Fred laughed gently.

"I suppose, but it was... well it was right after I shared something personal with him and it - it came off a bit hurtful," Hermione voiced for the first time since it had happened. It felt like a small weight had been lifted from her chest just hearing herself say it.

"Ah, I see. Well, not to make excuses but no one ever said Weasley men weren't complete berks sometimes. All men, really," Fred commented. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course," Hermione nodded.

"I do things like that to Angelina, even after being with her for so long. But just try not to let it get to you. Because I know if he hurts your feelings, it's by _accident_. He would never set out to do or say anything to make you feel bad, Hermione. I would never do that to Angie, and he would never do that to you. That's just not the kind of people we are," Fred explained. "I'm sure once you talk to him and you guys sort yourselves out, you'll realize he never meant to make it look like he was poking fun at whatever you said."

"He asked what I saw when I used a Daydream Charm, and I told him I saw us kiss," Hermione whispered.

"Ahhhhhh..." Fred grinned but nodded in understanding. "Well, again, you should talk to him. Like I said before in the Post Office, he was dying to know what you saw so I doubt he'd go and laugh at you to embarrass you."

"Okay."

"And just to warn you, your wards really did a number on him."

"What happened?" Hermione asked more sharply, worrying and folding the bag her croissant had been in.

"Well, he tried to apparate right in and you obviously blocked him from following you. He... bruised some ribs from bouncing off when he tried to get in," Fred grimaced.

"But he's okay, right?"

"Oh yeah, no worse than what we've managed to do to ourselves on occasion. Mum gave him a right dressing down when he explained how he'd hurt himself when she was patching him up. He's still a bit tender, literally and figuratively speaking." Fred chewed the last bit of his croissant and downed the rest of his coffee.

"Could you tell him he should come over whenever he can? I'd owl him but I have no owl," Hermione laughed quietly and sipped her now lukewarm coffee.

"Sure, but you realize he'll pounce on me when I get home, I'll tell him to visit you and he'll be here in no time?" Fred laughed loudly.

"I assumed so, considering what you've told me," Hermione gave a small smile.

"Alright," Fred rose from the chair and nudged it back into place. "Just remember what I said about me putting my foot in my mouth with Angelina just the same as George has done here with you. Ask her! She'll tell you all the things I've cocked up; got a memory like an elephant that one," Fred grinned and swung his jacket on, making his way for the front door.

Hermione pulled herself from the bed, stretching her arms above her head.

"Thanks for coming over to talk some sense into me, Fred, and getting me to shower," Hermione hugged him tightly around the middle, squishing her cheek into his sweater. Fred squeezed her shoulders reassuringly once more.

"Not a problem. I'll be your big brother-in-law soon enough. Gotta sort out my little sister and her boyfriend when they have a spat, even if her boyfriend is my twin brother. Actually I guess you're fiancés. _Strange_, life, innit?" Fred's chest rumbled with laughter.

"Mhm," Hermione agreed and pulled away. Hermione groped for her wand and took down the wards. "Can you tell him the wards are down so he can apparate in? Without injuring himself?

"I'll do that. You'll see him in approximately... forty-three seconds," he turned to leave. "Oh, and mum says _'come to dinner if you feel up to it dear, you know, after everything. It is Sunday after all'_; her words, not mine."

"Alright, we'll see," Hermione smiled and he disapparated with a pop.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself tightly, burying her chin to her chest and waiting for George to make an appearance. As Fred has predicted, there was another pop a minute later and Hermione raised her gaze to find George standing in her kitchen, just as he had done a few times before. Although this time he looked quite ragged; his stubble was longer than she usually saw it and he looked like he hadn't slept well in a few nights, his hair was messy but not in the usual way she thought was adorable, and his clothes were wrinkled and mussed.

George just stood there with his mouth poised like he wanted to say something but didn't know quite what. Hermione lowered her arms from around herself and took a deep breath, not even sure herself what she wanted to say.

"I'm sorry!" George voiced before she could get a word out. "I'm sorry, whatever I did to hurt you, I didn't mean it. I _swear_. I -"

"I know. Fred said," Hermione cut in and closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around George's middle. She had not realized how much she missed him until he wrapped his arms around her in return and she was enveloped in the scent of him.

"Please, _please _tell me what I did so I can try to make it better. I've been driving myself batty trying to figure it out and I -"

"It's just - Well, I'm sorry too. I think I may have assumed you were laughing at me, and I didn't give you a chance to explain," Hermione stepped back, wringing her hands.

"Laughing at you?"

"For telling you my daydreams have been of kissing you."

The sentence hung in the air for a few beats, and George looked taken aback.

"I could never laugh at you for that, that would be awfully hypocritical of me," George uttered.

"I - What?" Hermione asked.

"It would be hypocritical for me to make fun of you for that, considering what I see when I - Well whenever I dream really, sleeping too. I... I'm so sorry. I was laughing because - Well you seemed so unsure and a little shy to tell me, like it was going to shock me or something," George explained.

"Well, yes -"

"Hermione, I've been seeing a lot more than kissing."

Hermione blushed furiously and dropped her chin.

"I mean, not all naughty things. But sort of, everything. Everything I could have with you. A _fair _amount of randy things, I'll grant you but -"

George was cut off by a soft slap to his arm.

"I'd been using the charms so much, Fred was on the verge of making me pay for them out of my own pocket, or at least to make my own supply. I - I should probably explain some things. Do you mind if we sit?" George gestured to her mussed bed.

"No, of course not," Hermione answered.

They settled themselves opposite each other, Hermione leaning back at the head cross legged and George facing her at the foot with one leg bent in front of him and the other foot still on the floor.

"Where to start..."

"The beginning, I should think," Hermione replied softly.

"Whew, not asking much Granger," George laughed. "Okay, well I guess the biggest thing you should know is that Percy didn't _just _put you with me because we were a logical choice given everyone else's relationships. He put you with me and I didn't get upset because I already had feelings for you and I'm pretty sure he knew." During his confession his eyes seemed to have a hard time looking right at her and strayed from the headboard to the duvet to the bedside lamp.

Hermione blinked and shook her head, slightly damp hair shaking.

"What?" she whispered.

George cleared his throat and met her eyes.

"I like you, Hermione, as more than a friend. And I have done for a while," he let out a long breath and his shoulders sagged a bit.

"Since... when?"

Hermione's mind felt like it was spinning around in a rock tumbler and George's cheeks flamed. She had to give it to him, once he got started he didn't seem to hesitate telling her anything.

"Well, I think things sort of started changing for me in your fourth year; I think your Yule Ball ensemble sort of planted a seed and then you spent most of that summer at Grimmauld with us and by the time we started up school in September, I was a goner," George gave her a tiny quirk of the lips.

"But you never said anything," Hermione's voice was bewildered. "And I never even suspected-"

"Well, you were far too interested in Ron and riling him up with your writing to Viktor Krum," he said, not unkindly.

Hermione remained dumbfounded, running through all the encounters with George she could remember from fourth year and after. She really could not remember a time when she thought he might've taken an interest, but he did have a fair point.

"And I never wanted to get in the way of that. Ron just, he never got it right with you, ever, but I could see that he wanted to. And I couldn't do that to him, regardless of if you would have even gone on one date with me or not, I couldn't say anything," George continued.

"And still, all this time? It's been three years!"

"Well, I tried to sort of - There would be times when I didn't see you for months and months while you were at school, and then when you went away with Harry, and it would dull out of necessity so that I didn't go absolutely mad; it would always flare up again as soon as I laid eyes on you, or heard your voice. Until you sort of tried something with Ron and figured out it wasn't what you guys wanted, I wouldn't have said anything. Unless Ron had stupidly gone out and found himself some other girl after the Final Battle. Then I would have; by then I would have done something."

"But you didn't. After, when Ron and I decided not to, you never said anything."

"That's where I turned into a bit of a dolt, I guess. I wasn't sure you would... Well you were busy with Hogwarts and helping and making things better and you seemed happy and I got to work with you sometimes, and I saw you regularly. But I guess I was a little terrified of what you would say -"

"- I'm not _that _bad -"

"You're scary when you're mad," George laughed. "And I think the biggest part of it was, if you weren't Ron's girlfriend and I said something that made you uncomfortable, there was nothing stopping you from avoiding the Burrow altogether and then when would I see you?" George's voice had taken on a softer quality.

"Oh, George," Hermione reached across the short expanse on the bed and rubbed his knee. "That wouldn't likely happen. Maybe at first, but I love your family too much to do that. I'd miss everyone so terribly. It's not an option for me, really."

"Wish I'd known that four months ago," George laughed, laying his own warm palm over hers for a moment and then she sat up again.

"And you didn't say anything when we found out about this new legislation; why?"

George sighed.

"I didn't want you to feel like you had to feel something for me. I'd rather you never develop feelings for me and we just fulfil the requirements of the law than you forcing feelings that aren't genuine. That would break my heart, if you hurried things and felt like you had to feel something just because I did, and then both of us ended up miserable. At least this way we could try just sort of dip our toes in, so to speak, and if you didn't feel it then we could just..."

"Have a marriage of convenience?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'd still take care of you and protect you by keeping you away from all the _other _dodgy purebloods," George laughed. "We just wouldn't... be like mum and dad."

"Well," Hermione plucked up a bit of courage, "I don't think you have to worry about that just yet. I think that, given a little time, I might feel just the same for you as you do for me."

George's face split into a paralysing grin.

"Really?"

"Yes, I - Well I suppose I like you back. I haven't really sorted it all out yet but I like spending time with you and I get all -" Hermione wiggled her fingers in the general direction of her stomach, "- fluttery and tingly when you're around and that sounds terribly girly but it's true."

George just grinned at her and ruffled his hair.

"So... what do we do now?" Hermione asked.

"Well, nothing has to change, really. We can just carry on spending time with each other and sort of... settling into this," George swirled his hand in the air between them indicatively.

"Okay," Hermione sat back and heaved a sigh.

"I'm so sorry for making you feel the way I did," George said again.

"And I'm sorry for being so melodramatic and not giving you the chance to explain," Hermione threw in.

"So if I'm being an arse in the future, you'll just tell me, yeah?" George laughed.

"And if I'm being sensitive, you'll do the same?" Hermione nodded and George held out his hand and they shook on it, just as they had done when agreeing to make their decision on December 1st. George turned her hand in his and brushed his thumb over the ring on her left hand.

"Everything I said that day about waiting for real feelings, and promising to be honest is still true."

"Thank you, George," Hermione said, "and if nothing else, this proves that we may not ever Avada each other over a disagreement."

"Ah, too early for those sorts of promises, love," George winked. "And I meant to mention to you before, I know you've got a lot on your plate with your book agreement and this whole thing, but you should probably think on what you want to do in terms of living arrangements after we, you know, tie the knot officially. This place is way too small for both of us; you would definitely end up slaughtering me in a rage," George laughed lightly.

"Oh, right." Hermione paused. "Have you thought about it much?"

"Well, just thinking of options, nothing too serious."

"And?"

"Well, I think Fred and Ange are thinking of getting a house of their own, so we could use the flat Fred and I are in above the shop. Or we could look for something else if you want, or we could stay in the flat while you finish your book thingie and then look for something else, there's options. How about you mull it over, along with timing, as in how soon should we be planning this shindig, and then we can talk it over next week sometime. I think that's enough of the serious and complicated life decisions for today," George laughed and Hermione nodded thankfully.

"Your mum wants me to come for dinner tonight, but I think I need a nap before I go anywhere, to be honest. And you look like you could use one too," Hermione observed and George laughed.

"And a shave," he raised a hand to brush over his ginger scruff and give it a little scritch.

"And a shower!" Hermione playfully waved her hand under her nose and scrunched up her face.

"Ha ha," George enunciated. "I'm a little worse for wear, I know. Do you want me to come get you for dinner, or do you want to just happen upon me there?"

"You can come by. I might have made up my mind about something by then, you never know," Hermione rose once again and reached for the ceiling, feeling the muscles in her lower back cry in happiness at the movement.

"Alright, I'll be 'round about six-ish then," George picked himself off the bed as well and Hermione nestled into his embrace once more, easing up on the pressure when she saw his jaw tense from his injuries.

After George had left, Hermione stood in her kitchen with a glass of water and pondered the events of the last two days. When she had finished, she curled up in bed, set an alarm for an hour's nap and let her eyes drift closed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well there we go. Another one done and dusted.  
><strong>

**A very large thank you to all the reviewers, your comments really keep me going with this. Four chapters in five or six days, I think, says something. This is by and far the longest thing I have ever written, and you guys keep me on track with it.**

**Let me know what you think. **

**Leave me another lovely review!**

**Cheers!**

**P.S. - Hermione is going traveling next chapter!**


	13. Chapter 13

The alarm went off an hour later and Hermione groaned.

She hoped dinner at the Burrow wouldn't be too weird what with her actions of the last few days.

Hermione shuffled out of bed for the second time that day and made an immediate detour to the bathroom. Her mouth tasted like sleep and coffee. Not her favourite combination, admittedly. She brushed her teeth and washed her face and contemplated putting on clothes that weren't pyjamas.

This week was going to be a week of decisions and then it was going to be straight on to carrying through with them, Hermione could tell and she sighed. She had better get her feelings sorted out; she had to think about what George said about living arrangements, and think about timing with the book project and how that was going to affect the next year of her life, and after all that thinking, she'd have to come to some conclusions about things.

Well, first thing's first. Shoes and to Diagon Alley.

After straightening herself out and throwing her hair into a ponytail, Hermione made for Eeylops Owl Emporium or the north side of Diagon Alley. Stepping into the dark shop, the surprisingly comforting sound of rustling wings and beak clicking could be heard from the owls perched around her. Some, like the ones hanging in the front window, were very regal looking and preened upon her inspection. Others were just common barn or brown owls, less expensive and for the basic purpose of sending and receiving post. Hermione browsed, other customers bypassing her entirely, and a fair few minutes later she eyes landed on a brown owl near the back. She was tawny in colour, a lighter almost amber with darker feathers intermixed rather than a dark brown completely. Her wide owl eyes watched Hermione closely as she approached and she shifted from side to side as Hermione drew closer and raised her forearm to see if the owl would oblige.

"Come on, I won't hurt you. I just want to meet you," Hermione said in a hushed voice as the owl hesitantly moved one talonned foot out to reach for her and then pulled back, shifting closer until Hermione felt the owl clutch at her sweater gently. In the blink of an eye, the tawny owl had rested on Hermione's forearm and swayed a little as Hermione made her way to the front window where she could see her in a better light.

It was not sunny outside but the window did do a considerable job of letting in more light and Hermione stood in a stream of it. The owl was just an average brown owl but as Hermione had seen before, her colouring was far from average. She had a mixture of amber and honey coloured feathers with some darker patches and creamy speckles. She blinked her wide dark eyes at Hermione, who smiled.

"You are very beautiful, did you know?"

Hermione raised her other hand slowly and the owl nipped at her outstretched finger, just closing her beak over it gently.

"I think I want to take you home. Does that sound alright?" she asked and the bird rustled her feathers, not altogether clear.

"Is that a yes?"

Another nip.

"Alright."

After prompting the bird to rest on her shoulder, she paid the man behind the counter and purchased a black wire cage and some treats as well. She had never had an owl before, and wondered how Crookshanks would react when she brought home their new family member. Putting any worry out of her mind, she clutched the cage tightly on her hand as she apparated home, the owl letting out a screech upon arrival, clearly not having like the sensation at all.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have a floo..."

Crookshanks appeared and as Hermione set the cage on the kitchen island, he jumped up to sit a short distance away. The two animals observed each other, deadly still.

"Crookshanks, this is... What shall we call you?" Hermione opened the cage door and the bird accepted the offer of her hand, climbing aboard surely but maintaining her eyes on Crookshanks. Hermione lifted her up and and when the owl was satisfied Crookshanks would not move a muscle, she turned her dark eyes on Hermione once more, blinking slowly.

"How about... Antigone?"

The owl ruffled her feather indignantly.

"No, I don't think so either. Titania?"

She blinked and settled.

"Titania it is. Crookshanks, this is Titania. She's our new post owl. So no trying to eat her, alright?"

Crookshanks blinked and swept his tail lazily. Hermione set the new owl down on the kitchen island and the two continued to stare at each other silently. Conceding that they would likely need time to get used to one another, she went about finding a permanent place for the cage and settled on levitating it to sit on top of one of her bookcases, out of reach of Crookshanks entirely. She stored the bag of owl treats in the cupboard and paused to consider the time she had left before going to dinner with George.

Deciding, she pulled out a duffel bag from under her bed and set about packing enough warm clothes to last her four or five days and added all the extras she'd need; a book or two, her favourite fleece blanket that her parents had had for as long as she could remember, a quill and ink, and enough parchment to keep her going.

"Crooks, do you think Ginny would like to take you for a few days?"

This drew the kneazle's attention away from the new owl and he leapt off the counter and over to the bed, sniffing in the bag and looking at her expectantly.

"_Ginny_? Do you want to go see Ginny?" Hermione scratched behind his ear and immediately pulled a purr from his chest. "I thought so. We'll ask her tonight."

For the next morning, she set out the clothes she would need to wear; hiking shoes, a pair of scruffed up old jeans, a large pullover and her raincoat with a knit scarf, her mittens and her toque. It would be chilly there regardless of her ability to warm herself with magic, and Hermione's muggle side needed some attention anyway. It would remind her of her childhood and that was part of the reason she was going, after all.

By the time George arrived to get her, Hermione had organized everything for her to go away aside from tell him, and ask Ginny to keep Crookshanks at the Burrow until she got back.

"Where're you going?" he asked, looking around at the bags she had packed and everything laying neatly on her bed.

"To my cabin," she answered, standing from where she had been crouched, looking for her kettle in one of the lower kitchen cupboards.

"You have a cabin?" George sounded very surprised, and she didn't blame him. She didn't think anyone knew about it aside from Ginny, Harry and Ron.

"Yes, in Norfolk, on a little lake."

"Is there a story behind that?" George inquired, leaning against the counter.

"Yes. My parents used to own it; when they left for Australia, they sold it. I tracked down the owner after the Final Battle and made him an offer he couldn't refuse. I think I'll stay until the end of the week or so. I just want a little time to think over everything and get my head organized," Hermione explained.

"Okay, good idea," George grinned. "I'm sure you'll have a great time."

"I'm positive I will. And I got an owl! I thought since I'm going away, I might need to owl you or my editor. And I just needed one in general," she laughed. "Going to the Post Office every time I needed to write someone was a pain."

George looked to the tawny owl and nodded.

"What's her name?"

"Titania."

"Where's that from?" George's furrowed brow expressed complete ignorance on the origins of Hermione's choice of name.

"A muggle play. _A Midsummer Night's Dream _by Shakespeare."

"That explains why I have no idea who that is," George quipped with a shrug. "But now you can owl me whenever you decide on anything." George grinned.

"That was part of the reason I got her. So I'll leave tomorrow morning," Hermione continued.

"Alright. Need anything from me?"

"Just for you to take me to dinner now; I'm starving," Hermione tugged her sweater back on and slipped into some flats. George offered her his arm and they left after Hermione had let Titania out the window to hunt and explore the area.

The moment George and Hermione walked through the door, Ginny set down the serving dish she had been placing on the table and threw herself at Hermione so forcefully the air whooshed out of her lungs. Ginny's hair enveloped Hermione's face and she stumbled back under her friend's sudden weight. Hermione felt George's hands on her hips, keeping keeping his sister from bowling her over into him and she let out a shocked gasp.

"Did I hurt you?" Ginny pulled back, hearing it.

"No, you just winded me," Hermione phibbed and she felt George's fingers give a small squeeze before retracting.

"Oh, sorry," Ginny breathed. "How are you?"

"Better now, thanks. Sorry for... you know," Hermione quirked her lips.

"Not letting me in when I came knocking?" Ginny laughed lightly, showing Hermione that she did not take any offense to Hermione turning her away when she had been upset. "I take it _this _one apologized?" she nodded her head to George who was standing close behind her.

"Yes, but it turns out we could have avoided the whole sorry thing if I had just given him the chance to explain himself," Hermione grimaced lightly.

"Hmm," Ginny raised her eyebrows but said no more on the subject. As she turned and made her way back towards the kitchen table, Hermione followed and George went in search of other family members.

"I was meaning to ask you, do you think you could take Crooks for four or five days? I want to go up to the cabin this week," Hermione snuck a mushroom from the bowl with green salad in and popped it in her mouth unashamedly as Ginny looked on.

"Yeah, 'course. When did you want me to come get him?" Ginny asked, pulling a pan out of the oven with a pair of old oven mitts.

"Tomorrow morning?"

"Sure. Just hold on a sec," she paused after setting the pan down and stuck her head between a pair of banisters on the staircase. "Mum? Mum! I don't know if these sweet potatoes are done!"

"Well are they crispy on top with brown around the edges?" came the reply from a few floors up.

"Yes?" It can out as more of a question than an answer.

"Then they're done. Are George and Hermione here yet? Do you know if they're coming?"

"Hermione's standing right here beside me, mum!" Ginny laughed and Hermione smiled.

She never could have stayed away from these people for too long, even if George had made her uncomfortable. They were her _family_.

"Hermione!" Molly's voice was closer and then her head popped popped out over the railing on the fifth floor. "Good to see you dear; you're looking well! Dinner's in a minute; will you two get the boys in gear?"

The two of them turned and Ginny went to fetch the mashed sweet potatoes and set them on the table alongside the rest of the dinner dishes.

"Boys! Dinner!" Hermione called ahead of herself as she made her way into the living room. She was immediately accosted by Fred who tackled her and then rushed [past her just as hurriedly shouting, _"Finally! I was just about to expire of starvation!"_

Angelina followed after rolling her eyes and saying hello. Harry and Ron greeted her normally and Arthur puttered in after them, his hands still dusty from tinkering in the shed. George motioned for her to go first and he followed after her back into the kitchen.

Dinner went well, and no one awkwardly mentioned what had happened with George and Hermione and for that they were both grateful.

"So have you made any solid plans with your publisher yet?" Arthur asked over apple crumble in the living room later on in the evening.

"I've spoken to her again about some questions I had. I'm very excited to sign with them. I own my parent's old cabin near Norwich and I'm staying there this week to organize things and relax before I get back and jump in head first," Hermione savoured a bite of dessert and then continued, "I'm thinking of starting with the book November 1st; that way this Christmas I'll just be starting and not panicking, and by next Christmas I'll have just finished. Hopefully."

"And what will you do between now and then?" Molly asked softly.

"I was actually thinking of helping the twins out with the Christmas preparations," Hermione voiced for the first time since wondering if she should bring it up again.

Both Ginny and Molly's mouths open in small 'o's, and Arthur beamed.

"That's a great idea, Hermione! Just fantastic! I'm sure you can show them a thing or two as well!" Arthur clearly like the idea of Hermione spending more time with the twins, hoping maybe that her influence would do them some good.

"Did you _know_," Ginny snatched at George's arm as he walked by on his way to the kitchen, empty bowl needing refilling, "that Hermione is planning on helping you at the store?"

"Well, we talked about it once, weeks ago," George flicked his eyes over to Hermione. "Did you still want to?"

"Yes, I think so. I was just saying, I think I'm going to leave October open to get organized and help you and Fred at store before I start with the book. Do you still need help with production?" Hermione turned on the sofa and craned her neck to look at him.

"Oi! Fred!" he looked to the other side of the room where Fred was, amidst most of the other attendees, and waited for him to raise his head. "Hermione's going to come help at the shop for October!"

Fred gave George a thumbs up, grinned at Hermione, and went back to his conversation with Ron.

"There we go. All settled," George flashed his parents a smile before continuing to the kitchen to hunt down more apple crumble and Hermione laughed at the little jig he did as he rounded the corner.

"Well that was easy," Ginny conceded.

When the night was winding down and Fred and Angelina started saying their good byes, Hermione rose from the sofa as well.

"I should go too; I have a long day tomorrow," Hermione sighed and smiled. "Thank you for dinner, Molly. I'll see you both soon." She Leaned down to embrace them both.

"Yes, of course dear, and if you need anything while you're away, you'll owl?" Molly nodded. Hermione assured her she would and then moved to say goodbye to Ginny, Harry, and Ron; she paused to hug Angelina and Fred, who were leaving, on her way over to them. All around, everyone wished her a good time away at her cabin and she slipped back into her flats.

"I'll go with you," George followed after her, wishing everyone a good night.

They left out the back door and trekked through the yard, George drawing closer to her side as they stepped through the grass. He smiled down at her and offered his arm and they left her her apartment.

"Hermione," George started after she had toed off her shoes, "I just wanted to make sure you knew that just because you know the whole story now doesn't mean you need to rush anything, still. If - I mean, if your feelings get stronger, that's okay. If they don't, that's okay too. No matter how fast or slow you're comfortable with, if it comes time to get married and we're still not, you know, _there _in the relationship yet - Well, what I'm trying to say is, we should still take it at the pace we want and sort of ignore the getting married part for now. Because it's okay if we're married and still sleep in separate rooms, and don't act like we're married. Am I even making sense here? I don't feel like I am."

Hermione laughed and nodded.

"You are. It's fine, George. This whole thing has been one gargantuan learning curve, hmm?"

"Too right," George sighed. "You'll let me know if you need anything while you're away? Feels weird, you leaving, and I didn't even know you owned a place."

Hermione shrugged.

"It didn't even occur to me to tell everyone. I bought it back from the muggle owner for sentimental purposes. Don't get me wrong, I _like _going there, but I wouldn't have bought a cabin if it hadn't been my parent's before. Not like I'm an outdoorsy person," Hermione chuckled. "I'll do some thinking though. I want to write the editor at M. L. Books and make sure it will be okay to stipulate my start date as November 1st. I'll let you know as soon as she sends an answer," Hermione smiled.

"Thanks for offering to help; you know you don't have too, right? We can manage," George stressed.

"I know, I'm sure you could. But I'd like to offer some help. I don't imagine I'd be fantastic with recommendations to customers or running the front, but I can certainly help supply stock and keep things smooth in the back. I mean it's up to you, it's your shop. If you don't need the help I can always start on the book earlier."

"No! No. I want you to come work with me," George laughed. "It's a bit selfish really. Once you start on you big project, I won't see you as much. I want to get my fill of you before you go off to start a massively researched, extra long and involved essay," George commented lightly and Hermione laughed.

"Those _are _my forte."

"Can't blame a guy for trying to squeeze the most out of a situation," George grinned and stood up straighter. "I'm off. Come here." He pulled her into a hug and squeezed her snuggly against his chest. "Have a good time, clear your head, do whatever it is you need to do and then I'll be here when you get back." He smiled and pressed a quick and gentle kiss to her knuckles, just like he had done on her birthday, before righting himself and disapparating.

* * *

><p>When the morning dawned, Hermione was awake and getting ready. She made breakfast early, showered and then packed all the toiletries she would need while away at the cabin. By the time Ginny had come 'round in the late morning, Hermione had already been to the grocery store for food to take with her and finished packing everything and shrinking her bags down.<p>

"Well, you look set to go. Excited?"

"Yes, a bit. Excited for quiet. And thinking space. I was just thinking that when I get back, it's going to be a whirlwind for the next year. Hard to believe that I was cleaning the Burrow with you in my spare time just last week," Hermione laughed.

"Yes, and thanks to you, I'm just about done the whole list now. If you hadn't helped I'd still have at least another week on top of that," Ginny was readying Crookshanks' carrier and shrinking down the container of food Hermione had packed him. "Crookshanks will have a fantastic time, as usual. I asked mum to leave a gnome or two in the yard for him to chase around this week and I think she did."

"Oh, he's going to be spoiled," Hermione rolled her eyes with a grin and Ginny reciprocated. "Oh, and I've got an owl now; I might write you while I'm gone so if she shows up, you know it's from me." Hermione pointed up at the open cage on her bookcase. Titania had come back early that morning after a night full of hunting and flying and was asleep with her head tucked into her wing.

"Ooooh, she's beautiful. Her colours sort of remind me of your eyes," Ginny commented absently.

When Ginny had packed up the kneazle and taken him home, Hermione gently woke the owl.

"I have a letter here for Amelia Wordsmith; when you've delivered it, I'll be at my cabin in Norfolk, so please go there, okay? This way I won't have to apparate you again," Hermione brushed a finger over the owl's head as she rustled herself awake and left through the window with a pinch to Hermione's forearm.

Before long Hermione was turning off a back road in the Norfolk countryside and ambling down a dirt track towards where she knew a small lake to be. The day was bright despite the clouds blanketing the sky and it remained dry for the time being. The dirt road had forest on either side; to the right was dense with more evergreen varieties interspersed with the changing leaves of some deciduous while the left hand side was heavier with trees in stages of colour and fallen leaves. If there was just one nice clear day, as Hermione hoped, she would spend it hiking though the trails in the area and really enjoying the changing seasons.

After a good walk, Hermione turned off the dirt road and onto a footpath just wide enough to squeeze a car past if you were careful and followed it in about five minutes. As the footpath curved to the right, a small wooden cabin came into view and Hermione sighed happily, a melancholy smile surfacing on her features.

Her parents were dentists who had worked and lived in central London, and they had one daughter who was always more concerned about books and literature and knowledge and learning. They realized from a very young age that they would have to make a concerted effort to get Hermione outside and pushed her to enjoy as much of nature as she could. Unfortunately for them, she did not really get along with most children her own age and they soon found that if she were to go adventuring with anyone, it would be them. At every opportunity, they ventured out to the little cabin they had bought as a getaway or weekend home. From the time Hermione was around four up until the summer before she left for Hogwarts, Hermione could remember spending as much time as her parents could sacrifice being away from work here at this cabin and the area surrounding it. After she started Hogwarts, however, she could only go with them when she was on holidays. Not that the cabin was terrible, but winters were not easy to spend away from the conveniences of modern living, at least when you were a muggle. As a witch, Hermione could keep herself warm and fix any problems she encountered from heavy snow, ice or inclement weather. As a muggle you had to anticipate all of those things and fix them the muggle way. Often times that required more organized packing to make sure you had the necessary layers of clothing and a stack of extra blankets for when the temperature dropped. It meant that showers were nonexistent if the water froze and it meant that you had to precut wood and store enough of it to keep the place heated. That being said, the only holidays they went to the cabin after Hermione's first year at Hogwarts were the summer ones, and even then things were not the same as they had been before she had received the letter that would completely alter her life and set her apart from her parents, no matter how little they all wished it had effected their relationship. Lucky for Hermione, her parents were good and understanding people and had still made every effort to keep her in touch with her muggle roots.

As she drew closer she took in the familiar setting; one floor with a vaulted roof that peaked off-centre, small shuttered side windows with empty flower boxes hanging under the sills, the hint of a covered porch at the door facing the still lake, a little overhang over the back entrance with a dented tin rubbish bin beside it, and the outdoor shower stall that backed to the water heater inside. The dark colour of the logs blended in very well with the dark trees that fenced it on one side, and Hermione noted that the giant stack of wood and kindling for the fire that she had cut when she had bought the place back was still there. She had stacked it against the side of the cabin and covered it in a muggle tarp and a hefty Impervius Charm to keep the wood dry in her absence so that it would be ready to use when she came back, whenever that would be. The tarp was still secured and Hermione drew up to the back door, pulling the old key ring from her jean pocket.

When she stepped inside, she let herself smile wide. Just as the muggle Tube was more than the sum of its parts to Hermione, so was this cabin. Really, it was just a bunch of logs, some windows, the bare necessities of living and a nice view, but it was everything she needed in this moment.

Moment of reminiscence gone, Hermione coughed; the inside needed a good airing before she settled in for the week. She set down her bags just to the left of the door and set to throwing open every window and shutter in the place and propped the front door open with an old piece of tree trunk that had been used for that purpose for as long as Hermione could remember. Whipping out her wand, she vanished the dust and the cobwebs from the surfaces and corners of the room, cleaned out the fireplace and the chimney and filled the water heater with a well-placed Aguamenti. Once she lit the gas heater beneath it, she carried on up the stairs inside the front door and cleaned the loft. The bed was against the left wall and there was only one dresser and two side tables otherwise in the small space. She cleaned and fluffed the pillows and summoned her bags from downstairs.

Once she had unpacked all her clothing, blankets, and sheets, she made the bed and skipped back downstairs. She cast a fresh cooling charm on the ice box in the corner of the kitchen under the counter and put all the food she had brought away in its proper place. The clomp of her hiking boots could be heard thumping around the cabin as she went about readying it for her stay.

So many things to do that would have taken a lot more time if she hadn't had magic to help her.

She opened the side door and rounded the shower enclosure, cleaning it of debris and bugs. On her way back in she carted in a few armfuls of wood and kindling to start a fire. If she didn't start one now, the cabin would be hard to keep warm all night and she'd probably wake up cold, wishing she had gotten one going sooner; even a warming charm couldn't last forever.

Sitting on the table in front of the fireplace, Hermione arranged the wood the way her father had taught her and lit it with her wand; _that _was certainly easier than trying to get it to catch with a match, or worse, a spark from flint.

Once the fire was crackling and beginning to heat the living room, Hermione cleaned the windows and shut them now that it had been airing out for long enough. After boiling water for tea on the small gas stove, she settled on the couch in front of the fire.

How long she sat there, she didn't know. It was the first moment since the beginning of September that she had been able to put all thought of the new law and George Weasley out of her mind and she relished in the mental quietness as she stared at the flames licking over the blackening wood. She was relieved to put the severe case of emotional whiplash of the last few days behind her. What a month! All these changes, not just to her possible future but to her thinking; how many hours had she whiled away thinking of how she and George were going to make this work, worrying about how he felt about her, and what her new unexpected feelings meant? When had she spent so much time with her mind on a man? The answer was never.

Fred was right; she did care for him, she liked him, and she was going to marry him. On that subject, George had brought up a valid point. If they put off getting married too long, she'd be in the midst of wrapping up the book, and she'd be pulling her hair out trying to manage both. In that regard, sooner was better. He _had_ stressed that they didn't have to behave like a married couple even though they would be married.

Her contract stated that she would have an unused professor's quarters to settle in over the course of the year so that she may stay in the castle as much as she needed throughout her research. So it didn't really matter _how _soon it was, as she'd have a space of her own until next November anyway, and not be crowding in at the flat before Fred moved out with Angelina, regardless of the date they had in mind for themselves. Then when Hermione was done with her project, they could stay at the flat together and look for a bigger place with the luxury of time on their side.

She would want a bit of time to plan...

Was three months enough?

Surely.

January 1st, then, dependent on George's answer.

Hermione summoned parchment, ink and quill and jotted down all the points that she had made in the last few minutes, culminating in the decision of January 1st. She then wrote a note to George saying much the same thing and asking his thoughts on the matter. He _had _said it was mainly up to her.

January seemed a good time since she would just be starting her project and not be tearing her hair out already and he would have just finished with the Christmas season which he said was likely to be chaotic. Waiting until the demand for their products died down was probably something he would appreciate.

Trying her best to put the decision out of her mind once again, and not stress over either George's response or the fact that January 1st was just over three months away, Hermione stoked the fire and cracked her book. She read for a few hours before Titania arrived back from delivering the message to Amelia. As the owl gobbled her treats down, Hermione ripped open the missive.

_'Ms. Granger,_

_We can of course sign you now with an expected start date of November 1st, if that is what you need in order to be ready for this project. I will contact Minerva McGonagall and make sure she knows your plan and that your rooms will be ready for you for the first of November._

_Please let me know when you would like to come in to sign._

_Hoping you are well,_

_Amelia Wordsmith_

_Editor in Chief_

_M. L. Books'_

Scribbling a hasty response back, Hermione made an appointment for Monday of the following week. Titania seemed amenable to going out again, and Hermione tied the two letters to her foot and sent her out the back door.

Now all she had to do was wait for an answer from George.

Later on, after the sun had set and Hermione had eaten a simple dinner of tinned soup and toast, George's answer arrived with the tawny owl, as well as a quick confirmation from Amelia; Monday would be fine. Hermione broke the seal on George's letter.

_'Hermione,_

_You work fast! I was expecting a letter maybe two or three days after you got there, not two of three hours! Looks like cabin time is thinking time, huh?_

_As for your suggestion, everything you said seems reasonable and I have no complaints. The only things I really want is for Fred to stand with me and for you to be happy, so you get whatever you want. _

_I'm sure you're thinking away over everything, so let me know if you have anything else you want to talk about while you're away._

_Yours,_

_George'_

So January 1st, she would be Mrs. George Weasley.

Oh boy.

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><p><strong>AN: We're getting into the thick of things now, people. I have plaaaaaans.  
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**Leave a review! You guys left quite a few lovely ones last chapter, and I really appreciate them!  
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**Big thank you to all the readers and an extra big thank you to skyoria for our mini-conversations and her contributions.**

**Until next chapter.**

**Cheers!**


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione's eyes fluttered open without the aid of an alarm on Tuesday morning, light streaming in the small skylight above the bed on the angled roof. Blinking and rubbing sleep from her eyes, she surveyed the small slice of sky she could see. It looked to be an okay day outside and Hermione slid from under the quilt to stretch. A hike was in order today, a long one.

Hermione made breakfast and tea and curled up in her fleece blanket on the couch, listening to the sounds of nature outside coming to life. Birds chirruped to one another and squirrels scritched up trees and occasionally over the roof of the cabin.

She would write Ginny about the wedding news before she left and she would likely have a response waiting when she returned at the end of the day.

_'Ginny,_

_News!_

_Don't tell anyone else but George and I have agreed to get married on January 1st._

_Will you stand with me?_

_Eek,_

_Hermione'_

Fairly vague and likely to incite seizures of excitement from unanswered questions in her friend, Hermione sent that tiny note along with another for George.

_'George,_

_I have written Ginny to ask her to stand with me and of course you should ask Fred._

_You will likely be bombarded by questions from Ginny, so be prepared. I'm sure you know how she can be when she wants answers._

_Always,_

_Hermione'_

She sent them off with Titania and packed food and water for her hike. She re-donned the clothes she wore to the cabin yesterday; old jeans, cotton shirt and pullover with hiking boots and rain gear. She locked the door behind herself and set off around one side of the lake.

The water was still and silent, noises travelling over the smooth surface from the other side; animals crunching through the underbrush, bird calls, the wind in the branches. Hermione drew a deep breath though her nose and savoured the smells of autumn in the wilderness. Leaves, wet bark, dirt, crisp water, outside.

She treaded the trail running along the lake, wet leaves clinging to her boots as she went. In some of the underbrush growing on the side of the lake, there was a family of ducks paddling about in the calm waters and Hermione smiled as the mother quacked at her passing.

The trail was sometimes overtaken and completely covered in fallen leaves, it being late September, but Hermione trekked on. She had traveled these trails so many times over the years, she could find her way in the darkness. Her parents had done their absolute best to get her out into the great outdoors and hiking was one of their favourite pastimes. Hermione liked it herself because she could ask about the different types of tress, how and why water eroded things, different birds and how they knew to migrate south in the winter, what made thunderstorms crack the sky with lightening and thunder, what made leaves turn colour and why did they fall.

Little Hermione, full of questions about everything.

Bless her parents, they answered everything they could to the best of their abilities. After Hermione's first couple of trips where she really started to engage in the world around them, her father had taken her to an ecology centre where she had had her questions answered by displays and presentations, and she had pestered the employees incessantly. It was all fantastic for Hermione; she got all her questions answered and in understanding the ecosystem around her, she had taken more of an interest.

Hermione turned and followed a branch of the trail away from the lake when she reached the far side and started up the incline there. Eventually it would lead to the top of a gradual hill and from there she would continue up, double back on the trail and hike up the next incline which would take her to the top of the ridge overlooking the lake with the cabin in the distance.

Hermione puffed as the slope increased and she had to push her way up the side of the incline. The trees became more windblown the higher she went, the branches swept clean of leaves and waving in in the breeze. Hermione continued up and some time later was rewarded with reaching the top of the ridge. Her eyes followed back down the trail she had taken and she looked own at her haven in the middle of nowhere. Pausing long enough to take a drink of water, Hermione adjusted her hat over her curls and carried on traversing the rocky hillside, breathing in the clear air.

The act of physically pushing herself and exerting effort to keep going was acting like a cleansing ritual. After all the turmoil since the beginning of the month, Hermione reveled in the mental silence the wilds provided.

As much as she knew she very lucky, she obviously had moments of utterly overwhelming life decisions. She just had to breath and remember that the world was a better place now, she had people who loved her very much, a man who obviously respected her and would do whatever he could to keep her happy, and she was doing well in the career aspect of her life.

She had never seen herself as a writer, much less a history book writer, but she had to admit that it wasn't a bad match for her. It was something she could probably spend her whole life doing and she doubted it would shock anyone who knew her if she took very much after the career of Bathilda Bagshot herself. Granted she would have George and children and lots of chaos to keep her young and balance out the life of history research she may have ahead of her and for that, she was thankful.

Marrying George might actually be exactly what she needed to keep her from hermiting away in the confines of a massive library of history manuscripts.

Hermione rounded a corner and found a rocky outcropping to sit and rest for a minute. The only thing Hermione was not happy with was that her parents would not be able to attend her wedding. She was, after all, their only child. She wondered if she would have them back by the time they had their first child; her heart ached at the thought of any of her children not knowing their muggle grandparents who would cherish them beyond belief.

A winter wedding.

Hermione had not given much thought to when she would like to get married, under any other circumstances, but when she had ever imagined it in any capacity, it had always been warm. Weddings normally happened in summer, did they not?

One place Hermione truly loved in the middle of winter was Hogwarts. She wondered rather latently if George would agree to be married at the castle.

The image of the Transfiguration Courtyard covered in a blanket of fresh white snow hung before her eyes and she shook her head. It would be far too cold for them to be outside, wouldn't it?

She would have to ask him if he liked the idea of Hogwarts anyway, and then follow up with McGonagall. January 1st was still Christmas hols, so there would be almost no one at the castle. If there was any time of the year besides summer where Minerva would be most likely to acquiesce to her request, it would be winter holidays.

But maybe George didn't want a ceremony?

But then why would he say the only thing he wanted was for Fred to stand with him?

Maybe he assumed Hermione would want a proper wedding. She would ask him when she saw him next. They didn't have to make a big deal of it.

Another image of the giant tree in the courtyard, enchanted leaves crystalline with ice and shimmering in the late evening light, niggled its way into Hermione's mind and she held it there as long as it would last before it faded.

Yes, that was a beautiful vision, but she better not let herself run with it until she knew it was a definite possibility. She would also need to check with Ginny to make sure her best friends would be okay with her getting married at the same castle, as she thought it likely her and Harry would marry on the anniversary of the Final Battle on the Hogwarts grounds somewhere.

Rising, Hermione made for the slope again and kicked some dry leaves around a bit. The rain had not fallen here with the last clouds and the ground was much drier. Hermione continued to hike, removing her hat as the incline grew steeper, carry her to her final destination.

After another hour of climbing and winding her way up the hills, Hermione broke out on the headland and stood on the outcropping of rock there proudly, heaving a few breaths of cool air. There she stood at the top of one of the higher hills in the area, and she looked over even more land this high up. Her tiny cabin was indiscernible from the trees around it now and even farther in the distance was a small town, smoke rising from chimneys in the distance. Gentle rolling hills spread out on the countryside around her perch and marvelled at the shade range between pastures and followed the hedges separating them with her eyes.

Not a single care for as far as the eye could see.

Hermione ate her lunch and watched as the sun played hide and seek with the clouds, finding it very easy to keep her mind clear and focused after her hike. She had been right to do this; it had been exactly what she needed.

After plodding and sometimes stumbling down the mountain, Hermione made it home as the light was starting to dim and dropped her gear as she entered through the back door again. She quickly lit a fire and set it to crackling and grabbed her shower supplies and a towel from upstairs, setting her warm pajamas on the arm of the couch so that she could dress as soon as she came inside. She stripped and wrapped her towel around herself.

The very worst part of cabin living was the outhouse, quickly followed by outdoor showering in cold weather. With feet already cold in flip flops, Hermione opened the side door and made a quick dash around the shower enclosure with her shampoo and soap. Luckily Hermione had thought to leave the water heater on for when she got home so that a hot shower was possible immediately. She cast a heating charm on the space to take the chill off and hung her towel on the peg out of the splash radius. Hot water tricked out of the shower head above her and Hermione showered at lightening speed, sudsing up and rinsing as fast as she could while still being thorough.

An unexpected _hoot _made her jump and reach for her wand on the ledge beside her as she finished and shut off the water. Glancing up, she found Titania perched on the top edge of the enclosure, gazing down at her nakedness as unabashedly as only animals can do. Hermione quickly squeezed her hair of excess water and wrapped herself in her towel tightly again.

Inside was warmed through on the bottom level now that the fire had been crackling in the fireplace for a while. Hermione let the owl in and shut the door quickly to keep the heat in.

"What do we have here? One from each other them?" Hermione untied the letters and the familiar-looking package that the owl had fetched for her before feeding her a treat and letting her back outside to hunt. Hermione set water on the stove and dried and dressed quickly. When tea was made and steeping, she cracked George's letter first.

_'Hermione,_

_I'll only write this to confirm your suspicions; Ginny did come 'round and demand answers, few of which I had. I referred her to you, so you will undoubtedly receive a lengthy request along with my note. _

_Please see attached if you need a little extra relaxation._

_Yours,_

_George'_

As she removed the paper from the package, she exposed the familiar box of a Daydream Charm. Grinning, Hermione set it aside and sipped her tea.

_'Hermione! _

_What?! January 1st?! That's basically no time at all from now! How will we ever plan a wedding in three months? Dear Merlin! _

_Okay, we have to start as soon as you get back. And I will also need all the details of how this came about. George wouldn't really say. You two didn't... you know, right? You're not pregnant already are you?!_

_Calm down Ginny. _

_Of COURSE I'll stand with you!_

_Eeeeeeek, _

_Ginny!_

_P.S. - Crookshanks is having the best time back at the Burrow!'_

Hermione laughed at her friend's admonition aimed at herself and set the letter aside. She would write responses now and send them first thing in the morning.

_'George,_

_Thank you again. The first thing I'll be helping with is making more Daydream Charms, I see. Are you still using them up or do you leave it to your brain's prerogative at night?_

_She did write me and she asks if we named a date so close because I'm already pregnant, and then berated herself for getting so worked up._

_I'll save that for tomorrow or the day after; I did a day hike today all the way up this large incline, up to the top of the closest range to overlook the lake and town in the distance. I am so tired and I'll probably be sore tomorrow but it was worth it. _

_I wanted to ask: Do you actually want a ceremony or do you just want to go to the Ministry and sign the papers? If you do not want to make a big deal about it, we can find a solution that compromises. Otherwise I have some ideas; I haven't thought very much about it aside from today on my hike._

_Always,_

_Hermione'_

There was nothing for it; she'd just have to wait for his answer.

_'Ginny,_

_I'm not pregnant, calm down. There's not even a possibility of that. What would your mother say?!_

_We agreed on so soon because after that I'll be busy with the book and leaving it longer is only going to make me pull my hair out with stress._

_On another secret note, have you and Harry discussed again the when and where of your wedding yet? Because I had an idea for ours: I was thinking the Transfiguration Courtyard. With the snow and the ice on the tree... Yes? What do you think? I haven't mentioned it to George so shh! Also, it's not set in stone obviously and if you'd rather we didn't, that's also fine._

_Your almost-sister-in-law,_

_Hermione'_

That would do it.

Tea, a quick sandwich and a fire stoke later, Hermione curled again on the couch, the cabin lit only by the flickering fire. Darkness had fallen outside and the silence of the night would have been disconcerting after living in a city most of her life if she hadn't enjoyed it so much.

* * *

><p>As expected, Hermione not only slept deeper than she had since the beginning days restoring Hogwarts but she also woke up sore from her hike. She hobbled downstairs and immediately lit a fire to warm the cabin through. She was not going out far today; she could see from the cloud cover that it would be raining. The dark clouds were ominous on the horizon and it would be an indoor afternoon. If she hurried through her breakfast she could make use of the morning by cleaning up the property a bit and re-spelling the roof against leaks.<p>

Leaving Titania to sleep for a few hours before sending her out with the letters she penned the night before, Hermione jacketed and booted up, closing the front door behind herself tightly.

The lake was gray and the strong breeze disturbed the surface of the water that had lain smooth yesterday in the milder weather. It was cold, and Hermione pulled her scarf up around her ears to keep the chill away as she swept her wand from side to side and cleared the rotting and wet leaves from the grass around the house. She pushed them off to the sides, into the trees and climbed up the side of the shower stall until she could see the roof. She cleared that of leaves as well and dried out the roofing materials. A wide-cast Impervius would help keep it watertight through the fall in case she couldn't make it back for awhile. She cleaned up the back entrance and vanished the rubbish in the bin by the door. The front porch had started to sag on one side and Hermione dried it out and fixed in in no time flat. The wooden chairs that sat on the porch needed a good scrub and she set some brushes to work on them and then continue around the cabin, cleaning any patches that had started to grow moss from the moisture. Once the outside of the windows were all polished and gleaming in the dull light, Hermione trekked back inside for another cup of tea and to send her letters off.

She had had a productive morning acting as the property owner she was. She had changed into clean lounge clothes and settled with another cup of tea when the brushes that had been working outside let themselves in the front door and settled under the sink.

Hermione cast her eyes around the space.

If she was going to spend her time mostly at Hogwarts, there wouldn't be much need for her apartment and the cabin. She would likely pack everything up and bring it here for the time being. Under the stairs was a wall of bookcases that would surely be enough for her collection, and she really didn't need much more than the dresser upstairs anyway. The kitchen was tiny but it was only a miniscule step down in size that what she had at the apartment already. The upside was the large kitchen table which she did not have at the apartment. Also, it was remote enough that she could put up some anti-snooping-muggle wards and some disguising charms and call it done. She'd be able to apparate and disapparate with no trouble. It even had a fireplace she could hook up to the floo network if she needed to. But then she would need a name for it.

Could she live here?

She had a feeling it would act more as an emergency getaway than an actual home. She didn't see spending much time away from Hogwarts and possibly George's. Nevertheless, Hermione felt okay calling this her primary residence outside of Hogwarts. At least until she and George had officially moved in together after the wedding, or later.

Leaving the fire burning, Hermione took her book out to the front porch and wrapped herself in her blanket before sitting in one of the large wooden chairs. The spent the afternoon whiling away the time reading and watching the lake and reflecting on the choices she had made thus far and if they were ones she could live with for years to come, hoping she had been wise.

When the rain pitter patter had started, it drizzled down and dripped occasionally from the corner of the porch overhang. As time wore on, Hermione had to cast a spell to keep the rain from splashing all over the porch deck and her blanket.

The skies darkened considerably and before long there was a distant crack of thunder. The rain came down even harder, and if she had not already ensured her warmth and dryness, Hermione would likely be soaked. She set her book aside and just watched mother nature rage around her haven of welcomed calm. The thunder grew louder and closer and skies lit up with the crackles of electricity nearby. The storm raged on and night darkened. The lightening continued and the thunder rumbled in her chest and Hermione extracted herself from her quilt and set it inside the front door.

On the top step, she stood, silent and still. Boots, pajamas, hair in a top knot.

When her boot met with the soggy ground at the bottom of the three porch steps, the initial shock of cold and slamming wet hit her. If she had any doubts about her hike being the only cleanse her mind had needed on this trip, she had this as a back up. She closed her eyes and the raindrop beat into her skin, into her very pores, and washed away all her worries.

Everything would work out in the end, she knew it. Time to start accepting things as they were and stop worrying about what she couldn't change.

Later, when Hermione found herself dry and in bed in the loft, her toes the last part of her body fighting to get warm again, she wondered what it would be like to have George keep her snug on nights like this.

Lightening flashed again through the skylight.

* * *

><p>The morning of October 1st broke and with it, the storm. Many more leaves had been blown from the trees next to the house, but thanks to Hermione's maintenance yesterday, none of them gathered on the roof. She slept in and shuffled downstairs to start a small fire and turn on the water heater for a shower.<p>

She could get used to trudging around outside in her pajamas and boots; there was no one around to see her state of disarray. Her hair was a disaster after the rain of the night before. She had dried it but it had been tangled and it had that rainwater feeling about it.

She had slowly gathered some more wood from the side of the house for later, as the pile inside was running low. She made oatmeal and tea and relished again in the quiet.

It was hard to believe that in one month's time she would be at Hogwarts, adding onto a history book that everyone in Britain knew of. She would be part of _Hogwarts, A History_, the very first book she had read when she had found out about her magical abilities and arguably the first magical book she had memorized.

That feeling was... Immeasurable.

Resolving to cherish every moment of peace for the rest of the day and for her last day tomorrow, Friday, she made a note to bring the radio next time and also find a nice wind chime to hang for after the winter passed.

After a hot shower and clean clothes, Hermione stared around the cabin. What would she do today? Just read? She had taken care of all the tasks she needed to do yesterday and she didn't much feel like another hike. Maybe she could re-read _Hogwarts, A History _and take some preliminary notes on any missing information and perhaps jot down some points to start researching for current history.

Work?

She was going to start work on her getaway trip.

_What would George say?_

Hermione laughed and disregarded the idea for now. Unless she got absolutely desperate for something to occupy her time, there was no work going on here. She picked up her novel and whiled away the hours flicking through pages at a lazy pace and watching the fire. At some point in the later afternoon, Titania returned with messages after being away for the day before.

"Did they keep you warm and fed?" she asked idly, rubbing the owl's head gently and untying her letters. Titania immediately flew up to the rafter in the loft, making it abundantly clear that she was not going out again today to deliver the responses if there happened to be any, Hermione couldn't blame her.

_'Hermione, _

_Still using like an addict. Might have to add a note to the box about addictive tendencies._

_When I get to see this place, you'll take me on a hike?_

_About the wedding details: I'm not fussed and have no preference. I know my family, particularly mum, would like to actually see a ceremony but it's not really up to them is it? Whatever you want._

_Ginny was quite giddy when I saw her next, I take it she managed to get some good news out of you._

_Yours,_

_George'_

_'Hermione,_

_The soon-ness makes sense once I think about it. But why New Years Day?_

_I love secret notes, it's like you know my weaknesses. Yes, we have spoken about it more. Date is still set for May 2nd, and I rather think he wants it to be on the grounds, maybe somewhere near Dumbledore's tomb, 'so that he can see that we're doing all right'. I nearly cried at that, the look on his face when he said it Hermione; he looked just like the little 11 year old I met at King's Cross._

_You can get shackled with my brother wherever you want; Same castle, same spot if you like. However the middle courtyard in winter does sound beautiful. I can already see all the ice decorations! Eeeek! I won't spill a word. I need you to be back soon so that we can talk about all this! Take another dream charm and tell me if you see anything else worth mentioning on the subject of weddings._

_Your Lady-in-waiting,_

_Ginny'_

She glanced at the Daydream Charm on the table, innocently sitting as she had left it, brown paper wrappings still caught underneath it and string in a tangle beside it.

Throwing caution to the wind and curious what she would see this time, she took it to the couch and snuggled herself down for a bit of a guilty pleasure. She could see why George admitted to using these; they were downright obsessive.

The familiar feeling of sinking spread through her limbs and Hermione closed her eyes, letting it pull her down without a fight.

Just like the first time, short scenes flashed over her eyelids too quickly to ponder the circumstances or context that they were pulled from; George outside the cabin chopping wood while shirtless and sweaty, Hermione running through the woods outside shrieking as George chased after her cackling with a mad grin on his face, Hermione rounding the corner of the shower stall and catching a glimpse of a naked muscled back with soap suds rinsing down to the ground, Hermione's cold feet nestled between a pair of warm hairy legs buried under the covers in the loft.

And then slowly, a new scene and awareness spread through her. She had just come back in front the front door of the cabin and hung her hat and coat on the peg over the stairs to the right and called out into the silence.

"George? I'm back!"

She kicked off her boots and washed her hands in the kitchen sink.

"Oh, good," she heard his voice from behind her, the tone one she recognized instantly, tingles starting to furl in her belly. She turned and caught his eye as he stalked towards her, eyes intent on hers as they widened in shock.

"No, George, I'm all sweaty from-"

He silenced her with a bruising kiss, demanding, and anchoring her head with both of his rough hands.

"Just the way I like you," he broke them apart and caught her sweater hem and before she knew it he was throwing it over his shoulder. He tugged her closer and reclaimed her lips, her will to protest all but extinguished.

For all the demanding movements of his hands and lips, he pressed lightly into her tummy and groaned when she shifted. She let out a breathy squeak when his hands clasped her hips and he lifted her easily, setting her down on the small space of kitchen counter by the door. Perching just on the edge, she spread her legs and he nestled into the space expectantly and the squeak turned into a weak moan.

Sitting on the counter, they were more of an equal height, allowing Hermione a reprieve from neck-craning. As his tongue delved into clearly familiar territory, one of his hands pressed against her lower back and shifted her forward on the edge and tighter to his body.

Somehow without her knowing or making the effort, her hands were tangled in his hair and clutching him close to her. At the gentle tug of her fingers and the warmth radiating from between them, a low groan rumbled through George's chest and his hips moved forward involuntarily.

"I knew you'd see things my way," he growled as her head fell back and she heaved a breath.

She vision began to swim and haze and she cried out a the loss of the dream. The once again empty cabin came back into view as she panted, excitement still running rampant through her veins. It was stifling under the covers and she threw them back, fanning herself.

Never had she ever had a dream like that that was so realistic.

These things would kill her before an experimental Weasley product ever would.

That kiss.

It had been so different from the other one. The first one had been slow and gentle and careful and tentative. This one had been... Dangerous. Heavy. Rough. The feelings in the aftermath were both a blessing and a curse; her body was strumming along on a plateau of arousal but on the other hand, that scene was unlikely to unfold for quite some time, if ever.

_Are you a Gryffindor or not? _Hermione asked herself. _Could she really be thinking about doing this?_

Before she could think of any reason to stop her, she threw off the remaining covers and pulled on her coat and pulled her boots on, messily tucking her pajama bottoms into the top of them. She grabbed her wand and she was running, wild pieces of hair falling from her bun and throwing a locking charm at the door over her shoulder.

Just past the wards and _pop_, she was in Diagon Alley.

She must have looked a sight to any of the shoppers still milling about on the magical high street, coat flapping behind her, hair a mess, pink pajamas in disarray, muddy hiking boots thudding against the cobblestones.

She had to find him. She hoped fervently he was still at the shop. She neared the door and a redhead was closing and locking it behind himself.

"George!" she called out and she saw Fred look up at her, shocked.

"No, he's gone ahead with Lee-" he pointed in the direction of the Leaky cauldron and Hermione blew past him, "Hermione are you alright?!" She answered with a vague flap of the hand over her shoulder so that he knew no one was dying and carried on dodging through the crowd.

She could see another ginger mop bobbing ahead and she barely had a breath to feel relieved.

"George!" she called again and pushed past more people, "George!" She vaguely registered him stop and cock his head, probably thinking he'd imagined someone calling his name. _"George!"_

At last his head turned above the crowd and Hermione beamed, still running. His face was confused, and a flicker of worry flashed over his face until he realized she was grinning and flushed and coming _straight _for him. Just a bit more, a bit more-

And she launched herself into his arms; he stumbled back a step before regaining his footing.

_"Hermione?" _his voice was muffled by her hair and her jacket as his arms held her tight and her booted toes dangled a few inches from the ground. "Are you okay?"

"I'm brilliant, fantastic but I couldn't wait - It was just too unbearable - How have you managed it? - I'm sure, George, I'm sure I want it. Kiss me, _please kiss me _-"

All the rushing words stopped when his lips met hers.

It was gentle and warm and he lowered her feet to the ground, leaning down as she stood on tiptoes. He kept one arm hooked around her small waist, cementing her front to his and keeping her from stumbling. The other palm was on her check with the fingers tangled in her messy hair, her ear in the hollow between his thumb and index finger and it was more glorious than it had been in her first dream when he had held her the very same way.

The entire world fell away and Hermione did not have the wherewithal to register the people still walking around them, Lee's devilish grin or Fred's knowing one. All there was was George's lips on hers with just the taunting promise of a brush of his tongue for a future kiss before all too soon he pulled away gently. All she could hear was their ragged breathing and the rushing sound in her ears and feel the burn of her cheeks and the elated bubble that had formed in her stomach.

"Needed that, did you?" he muttered, flush evident on his cheeks and he quirked one side of his lips up in a pleased smirk.

"Finally! I thought you two were going to pass out from oxygen deprivation! If you two are about done, Lee and I will see you inside after we have a good heave in the loo," Fred's voice leaked into the periphery.

"Yeah, _disgusting_," Lee teased and the two of them grinned at the couple still entwined in the middle of the cobblestone alley before turning and carrying on to the pub a few storefronts down.

"So..." George started, rubbing the back of his neck once he set her down completely and she took a small step back.

Hermione just smiled up at him and started laughing, one that came from the very bottom of her being and bubbled up and up and up until it broke out of her and George looked on with pleasure as she clutched her side. The irony of her actions considering how she had reacted when George had laughed at her admission after their last date was not lost on her.

"Yeah. I'm going to go back to the cabin, but thank you. I really _did _need that," she laughed.

She wrapped her arms around his middle and stood on tip toes to peck his cheek chastely and after she had let go and started back down to the other end of Diagon Alley, she had looked back at him. He was just standing there watching her retreating back and beaming; when he saw her look he raised a hand and she waved back and disappeared around the corner of the apparition point.

As she settled into bed later that night, she fell asleep with the taste of him still on her lips and sensation of his hand still on her cheek and the wonderful feeling of something being extremely _right _in her life.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes? :D**

**There are two songs I listened to for certain scenes of this chapter, both of which I find are too fitting not to mention for those of you who like that sort thing. **

**This Too Shall Pass - OK Go - For when Hermione stands in the storm and has a moment of clarity about everything turning out alright, especially the poignant last line.**

**Kiss Me - Jason Walker's cover of the song originally sung by Sixpence None The Richer - The end of the chapter with the build up being the dream, the peak of the song being the actual kiss and the slow ending being Hermione climbing into bed after.**

**If you guys like, I can leave any songs I draw inspiration from for relevant scenes in the Author's Note, just let me know if it's something you would be interested in. (There really isn't a tonne of them.)**

**Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought! Where do we go from here? (Bonus points if you sang that as the last line from the musical Buffy episode!)**

**Until next chapter.**

**Cheers!**


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione woke from sleep the next morning gently and dulled rays of light fell on her quilt. Her finger traced patterns on the blanket, following the stitching and doubling back on herself as she become more and more aware of the gentle warmth about her that had nothing to with blankets and heavy sleep and everything to do with George Weasley.

It was the second day of October, and she had said she would be spending the month helping Fred and George at the shop. How was that for timing? She'd be heading in on Monday after her meeting with Amelia and on her very first day, the memory of yesterday's dream and their first real kiss would be fresh in her mind.

_Employer/employee relations, Hermione? A perfect way to start your post-Hogwarts career_, she berated herself only somewhat seriously.

Well, he wouldn't be paying her, she would refuse if he tried. She didn't need it and wouldn't take it. She had enough from the Ministry from after the war and with her book advance, she'd be just fine. She would also not be paying rent much longer, and that could only help her save money at this point.

The thought of working in close proximity to George for a whole month though made her stomach jump into her throat. As George's name ran through her mind, she recalled immediately the look that had been on his face when she had turned in Diagon Alley to see him positively beaming from happiness and his stunned wave to her in the aftermath of her sudden arrival, accostment and departure.

They must have looked so different in the moments when they had been clasped in each others arms. She had blown up the street in her pink pajamas and dirty hiking boots with her long brown coat flapping behind her and her hair struggling to break free while her attention was too focused on something else to let it bother her; he was going for a pint with the boys after work, freshly showered and wearing a leather jacket she had never seen before - and suddenly the smell of him came back to her. The worn dark leather, soap, and a smell that was either an appropriate amount of cologne or just him - perhaps both - and if it was possible for her to melt into the mattress even further at the memory, she did.

He had smelled like _home_.

_Curious_, Hermione's mind flagged the usage of the word 'home' in conjunction with George and her body stilled in bed, the tracing of the bedspread ceasing.

She had barely accepted the idea of marrying him, and on _top _of that, liking him. And on top of _that_, admitting she was attracted to him. But '_home_'? That bore further contemplation.

A scritching noise permeated her awareness and she threw off the covers and hopped down the chilly stairs. There was a large owl at the front door; Hermione let him in and he perched on the back of a kitchen chair, dutifully holding his leg out to her. Once she had removed the small package he took off again, wings spread so wide Hermione thought he wouldn't make it past the door frame.

Shuffling her feet and closing off the draft coming from outside, Hermione quickly started another fire and cast warming charms around the place. Ripping open the brown paper, she found a bar of Honeydukes finest with a small folded piece of parchment tucked into the paper label. There was no note on it, just a simply scrawled letter '_G_' and Hermione grinned.

* * *

><p>Hermione decided to stay a few extra days at the cabin, citing '<em>distance breeding fondness<em>' to George and Ginny and thereby everyone who might wish to know why she hadn't gone back to London on Friday as she had stated she would.

Saturday and Sunday had passed just as quietly as the week before and on Monday morning she arrived at her publisher's bright-eyed and bushy tailed.

It was a very quick matter indeed to get her contract signed, dated and witnessed. As discussed, her start date would be November 1st and Hermione felt confident that she had made the right decision to leave time to take care of business considering the next year would be chaotic. At least this way she could pack up her apartment and start planning a wedding, however small or large they ended up going with.

As Hermione trotted down Diagon Alley happily, her copy of the contract stowed safely in her old school case and the promise of more details from Amelia by post that week, she steeled her mind for the afternoon ahead. George had said to come by whenever she was done and he would show her the back room and go through their book of product construction and general information with her. She hoped sincerely that he would not ask her to wear the magenta robes.

Verity smiled and waved from the front counter where she was ringing up a customer and Hermione rather gathered that the girl was happy to have another female around, if only for a month. The shop was not too busy on this afternoon and Hermione wandered back towards the work room door. This would be the first time she saw George since fairly attacking him on the street outside. She had paused with a palm pressed flat to the door when it was wretched open from the inside and Fred just about bowled her over.

"Gulping gargoyles, Hermione! I just about trampled you!" he exclaimed, setting them both right and surveying her for damage. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Hermione laughed. "Why were you stampeding out of here like an angry hippogriff?"

"Oh, not angry. Angelina just owled and she needs me to pop round quickly, I'll be back in a jiffy," Fred dusted off her shoulder and wiggled his thumb over his shoulder. "George is waiting for you back there. Good luck!"

Hermione watched him motor out of the store and past the front window hurriedly.

"You're late."

Hermione turned at George's serious tone, horrified at the thought of him considering her late for her first day at the shop.

"I -"

"I'm only joking," he chuckled, easing her discomfort. "How did your meeting go?"

"Oh, good. We got everything sorted and signed. She said she'd owl later this week with more details on where I'll be in the castle and when to go and all that sort of stuff." Hermione came out of the doorway and set her bag on one of the cleared worktables. George was standing on the other side, casually leaning back against the table behind him and Hermione could tell that his ankles were crossed the way she had noted only a month ago that he regularly had them; she grinned. It was silly, but she liked it.

"And what have you done this morning?" she pressed, meeting his eyes. He gazed back at her with seemingly more intensity than necessary for the conversation at hand.

"The same thing I've been doing all weekend," he replied cryptically.

"Which is?"

"Trying to figure out if I've finally cracked under pressure and started hallucinating, no Daydream Charm required."

Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What have you been hallucinating?"

"This woman running down the street yelling my name, a vision of wild hair and fuzzy pink pajamas; Beautiful. _Mad_, but beautiful," he grinned.

"You know full well that that was real," Hermione laughed. "And don't bash the jammies. They're my favourites."

"Fantastic. I'll be seeing those again sometime, I imagine," George chuckled and Hermione pinkened under his gaze.

"Don't get your hopes up, Weasley," Hermione quipped, tucking some hair behind her ear.

"A man can dream, Granger," he countered.

"Watch it, or I'll claim workplace harassment on my first day," she smirked.

"Ah, it would be worth it. But let's leave that sort of excitement for another day, shall we? How about I show you the back room and you can decide how you'd like to help?" George suggested, standing up straight and tucking his fingers into his pockets.

"I still maintain that I had better make some more Daydream Charms to counteract your addictive usage," Hermione muttered and George stifled a grin. "But really, you should tell me what you need me to do most, doesn't that make more sense?"

"Mhm, we'll see. You've already assured me more than once I'm not paying you for this, so technically I'm not your boss. You're really just helping us out so I'm not going to order you around," he laughed lightly.

"Why don't you write up a list of your best sellers and anything else you can think of that you need and I'll figure out what I'd be best at doing?"

"Alright, sure. So that desk over there," George motioned to a longer table under a window, "is the owl order area. It mostly takes care of packing orders at night under the charm we developed a while back; Fred and I just check in on it every once in a while to make sure it's all moving smoothly and being taken out on time. It's probably in your best interest to just stay away from that altogether."

Hermione nodded.

"And that whole wall is all supplies and potion ingredients, as you can see. It's a bit disorganised so if you can't find something, just holler at one of us and we'll try to find it. Down at the bottom is all the containers, boxes and bottles to package stuff in for the floor. Everything is already labeled, and the glass bottles are sterilized and ready to go."

It was a fairly long work room and the open shelves spanned one long wall. Hermione would have her work cut out for her, she could tell.

"And for safety's sake we keep the cauldrons away from the spells and charms area; learnt that the hard way," George grimaced and Hermione laughed.

"No teacher like experience," she chuckled, imagining the many ways George could have come away from a potions accident.

"And through there is the store room where all the finished products go so that Verity can get at them if we run out on the floor. Verity only ever really takes care of customers and puts out stock. Lee helps with production and also puts a lot of it out himself; he knows how busy it can get so he just does it so that Verity can keep some sanity, I think. If he wasn't so completely taken with Alicia, I'd think he had it bad for Verity," George laughed. "I'm sure you'll see what I mean as time goes on."

"Where do you normally spend most of your time?" Hermione inquired.

"I spend more time back here and in the office and Fred spends more time out there helping Verity. He hates paperwork and avoids it like it's contaminated with Hippogriff Fever," George grumbled with a smile and a shake of the head.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Hermione commented and George grinned.

"So shall I let you rifle through the Instruction Book while I compile this list, or do you want to investigate the floor or...?" George asked.

"Can I have a nose through the supplies and see if I can't organise them a bit better?" Hermione asked hesitantly, casting a sideways glance at George.

"I had a feeling you were going to want to organise the back room before you started anything else. Whatever makes you feel at home. _Hermione _it out back here all you want," George laughed at his own joke.

"Did you just use my name as a verb?" Hermione scoffed.

"I think it best describes what I'll find when I come back in here again. Have at it, I have a gut feeling that you will manage to improve the situation back here," George shrugged but nevertheless was still smiling. He was right; there was a brilliant degree of word economy in using her own name as a verb, and she gathered he was quite pleased with himself for thinking it up. George excused himself to see if Fred was back and give Verity a hand with the front. Hermione rolled up her sleeves and tied her hair back, surveying the empty room.

By the time George came back a time later, Fred in tow, Hermione had cleaned the potions area and made a significant dent in alphabetizing the buckets, jars, vials, and beakers of supplies that had been jumbled on the open wooden shelves. She had managed to spread out over three of the closest worktables to the wall where she was working and she was standing on a step stool trying to reach the back of the topmost shelf when they had announced their presence.

"Hermione, it's just about six. I was going to send out for dinner; want something?" Fred asked, surveying her burst of organization.

"Ooooh, yes please. Fish and chips for me," she looked over her shoulder with a thankful smile.

"Just as I thought," George mumbled.

Fred left to order supper and lock up after Verity and George perched himself on a stool off to her side.

"I see you made quick work of the back room."

"Mhm. I've been putting all the rare, dangerous or reactive ingredients in that cabinet over there, and everything will be alphabetized. Is Angelina all right?"

"Oh, she's okay now. She took a tumble off a broom at work and broke her wrist so Fred went to go make sure she had everything she needed at home while it heals tonight. I think he's going to take her dinner as well when it gets here."

"Oh, no! I hope it wasn't too bad of a fall," Hermione stopped her clinking and shuffling, looking at his face to gauge the seriousness of it.

"Nah, she's a tough bird. It wasn't bad, Fred was just worried," George commented. "I'm just going to go fill some stuff from the store room; you'll be alright until dinner gets here?"

"Yes, George," Hermione laughed and waved him at the door. "I'll be fine."

After Fred had dropped dinner off and Hermione had thanked him, he left again to go help Angelina out carrying dinner for the both of them as well. Hermione opened their container of hot food and was laying them out when George came in with two steaming mugs of tea trailing behind him.

"Just what I wanted! How did you know?" Hermione blew on the steam escaping from her cup.

"Well I had a hankering, so I took a _wild _guess and made you one too," George settled across the table from her. The two of them started on dinner, and as usual, Hermione had not realized how hungry she had been until the first bite had reached her mouth. "So the cabin was good?" George prompted.

"Yes, very. I really enjoy it there," Hermione answered after swallowing.

"I was a bit surprised that you liked it that much, to be honest, after living in a tent on the run for the better part of a year." George squeezed some lemon on his fish.

"Well, it's not the same as being on the run. There's a shower and food, for one. And, well," Hermione shifted in her seat, "I do like it, but I probably wouldn't have gone and bought a cabin if it hadn't have been the one my parents owned before. As you know, I'm not a very outdoors-y person, though I do enjoy a good hike from time to time. I think I love it there so much because of the memories."

"That makes sense."

They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, sipping their tea.

"So what do you want to get done this month before you have to go to Hogwarts?"

"I have to give my notice to my landlord and pack up my apartment. I was planning on shrinking down what little furniture I have and storing it at the cabin, and then taking all my possessions there too. There's this whole wall under the stairs of built in bookcases, and -" Hermione noticed George was shaking with suppressed laughter. "What?"

"I'm just glad that you're books have a place to go," George evaded.

"Yes, yes, I like books, ha ha," Hermione made a face at him. "Anyway, yes, I have to pack it all up and clean the apartment. Helping you here. And start getting things set up for January. Only three months to go before..."

"We get married," George finished for her. "Strange for you to say as well? I mean, sometimes it all makes logical sense when I look at it with all the facts; the Ministry, the necessity, whathaveyou. But then other times it completely boggles my mind," George admitted.

"I completely agree," Hermione inspected the table top, picking at an errant stain. She had accepted the marriage part of the deal; what was still throwing her off was the feelings she was developing for the man across from her. She still didn't know how she had managed to go from zero thoughts of him to obsessing over a dream kiss to running down the street and accosting him in public in one month.

"Mad, I tell you," George's smirk indicated he was reading her thoughts, and Hermione felt a small blush keep on. "So, January 1st. Thoughts? Had any more of those since we sort of talked about it via owl?"

"Well, just a place. How do you feel about Hogwarts over winter hols? If McGonagall agrees, I have to admit, it would be very convenient since I'll have rooms there already," Hermione took another large bite of fish and eyed his face.

"Yeah, that sounds nice. I'm sure she'll agree; you _are _one of her favourites," George leaned his elbows against the worktop. "Any place on the grounds in particular?"

Hermione pursed her lips.

"Oh, come on, tell me," he blinked his big blue-gray eyes at her.

"I sort of thought the middle courtyard would be nice, the one by the Transfiguration rooms," Hermione cocked her head to the side.

"With the massive tree on one side?" George clarified with a swing of his fork.

"That one," Hermione nodded.

"The one where Malfoy became the amazing bouncing ferret?"

"_Urgh_, I guess not. I don't want that to be all people remember," Hermione sighed. "There's always the Clocktower Courtyard, but it's a bit small..."

"I'm just pulling your leg; it's a nice spot. We'll just face away from that area; _no one will notice_," he whispered conspiratorially.

"So you're okay with that, then?"

"Yes. I said anything you want. You don't really strike me as the sort of wedding-crazy-bridezilla type so I'm sure anything you come up with will be fine. Seriously," George implored with his eyes.

"I'll take that compliment. Have you talked to Fred yet?" Hermione went back to her chips and soaked one in malt vinegar.

"Yes and he accepted, obviously," George answered.

"Ginny, too."

"There was no doubt about that."

Silence fell between them again and Hermione plucked up the courage to bring up what had been on her mind over the weekend.

"George, I was thinking over the weekend that we should just talk briefly about money. I know it's not always an easy subject but I think we should, before we get into the thick of things here," Hermione started. "Specifically for the wedding, I don't want you to think you'll be paying for everything. I'd really rather split it equally if anything."

"Hermione, the shop is doing great. You don't have to worry about it; I know you have your advance from the publisher, or you will do when you start, but really, it's not necessary," George answered evenly.

"It is for me. Really. And I don't just mean for this but also in the future. Like if we get a house and whatever. Expenses should be split; I have no excuse not to share that burden with you. I have a job," Hermione pressed. "It's not as if I can't hold one down because I have to take care of our eight kids."

"_Eight? Merlin_. In for a penny, in for a pound, eh?" George laughed, draining his mug.

"I'm just saying, there's nothing preventing me from making an income right now, and I will be, and it's important to me that we keep things as equal as possible. I just wanted you to know so that it doesn't come as a shock when I'm stubborn down the road," Hermione laughed.

"You being stubborn would never come as a shock, I'm sorry to inform you," George verbalized simply and Hermione snorted indelicately. "What say we pack it in for the night? You can plow away on this tomorrow all you want," George motioned to the mess behind her. "And then we can get started on some products when you're satisfied with your work environment."

"I don't mind staying to finish it now," Hermione turned to survey her work. "I'd hate to leave it a mess."

"It will really still be there for you tomorrow. I _guarantee _no one will touch it," George laughed. "Also, before we completely depart the subject, if you need any help with packing or moving or anything, you'll let me know? I'd like to help." George stood to toss their wrappings in the trash bin and banished the mugs to what Hermione supposed was the staff room sink.

"Sure, if you like," Hermione laughed. "Packing isn't hard. _And _I'm a witch, even better."

"Well, it's more so that I have an excuse to visit you more," George admitted unabashedly.

"You'll be seeing me just about every day!" she exclaimed, joking. "You'll get tired of me before we even get shackled together by the bonds of holy matrimony."

"Not possible," George winked cheekily and the two donned their jackets and closed the shop tightly. Diagon Alley was considerably more empty than earlier in the day when she had arrived and they set off up the street slowly.

Dark had fallen and a crisp breeze whistled around the ragged edges of the brick hodgepodge of buildings. Hermione rubbed her hands together and then tugged her sleeves down, having forgotten her gloves that morning. Without turning his head, George reached over and snagged her cold hand in his warm one, closing it comfortably around hers. The heat immediately warmed her and she got the feeling each of them was trying to discreetly survey the other's reaction without letting on. Both failed miserably at remaining collected for Hermione's blush made George grin happily and Hermione relinquished to the feeling of butterflies fluttering about in her midsection from there until home. Grinning like fools, hand in hand, they apparated away to Hermione's flat.

"Thanks for helping out, Hermione, it'll make a big difference this year, I'm sure," George assured her again.

"What time shall I come in?"

"Shop opens at ten, but you're in the back so it's not a big fuss if you come in a bit later. Fred and I will be there at ten and Verity's in at noon."

"Okay. I should go talk to Ginny in the morning quickly and then I'll see you. I'm pretty sure she was about to combust from her need to ask questions in her last letter; I don't want her to give herself an aneurysm from holding it all in for too long," Hermione laughed.

"Okay, see you in the morning," George smiled.

Hermione was still standing close and she leaned in and placed a small kiss at the corner of his mouth and his grin spread widely.

"I could get used to that," he winked again. Hermione shook her head and stepped back for him to disapparate.

"See you in the morning," she parroted and bent to pick up Crookshanks.

George left and she looked at her kneazle fondly.

"Whatever are we going to do with him?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: A shorter chapter more focused on George/Hermione interaction. Next one will shake things up a bit!  
><strong>

**So this project is turning out to be a lot longer than I had originally intended when I began. I actually broke out a notebook to get it all organized so that I didn't start to forget things I want to include in future chapters (timeline and everything!). I hope you're all okay with a long one!  
><strong>

**As always, thank you for all your kind words.**

**Leave me a comment!**

**Until next chapter.**

**Cheers!**


	16. Chapter 16

Hermione arrived at the Burrow just after nine in the morning the next day to make sure Ginny wasn't going mad from not having talked to Hermione face to face since she had been back.

"Thanks for dropping Crooks off for me on Sunday morning. He seemed rather unaffected by not having seen me for a week," Hermione dropped her bag onto a kitchen chair and removed her trench coat, dripping rain drops as she did so.

"No problem, he was an angel as always. He did seem rather relieved to be home though, even if you weren't there yet. How was the cabin?" Ginny sat back in the chair across from Hermione, school books and papers spread out over one end of the kitchen table. She was still in her pajamas and sitting cross-legged on the chair, red hair still tousled from sleep.

"It was fantastic; it's so quiet out there. You'll have to come out there with me sometime after you're done all this," Hermione motioned to the mess of parchment and ink spatters.

"That actually sounds great. I'm going to need a few days of nothing after I'm finished. Would you mind looking over this for me?" Ginny shuffled through a stack of parchment and handed an essay to Hermione. "If I've rewritten it once, I've rewritten it a hundred times. I just cant make it..."

"Work?" Hermione offered and took the essay.

"Cup of tea? And then you'll tell me all the things I want to know?" Ginny grinned slyly.

"Sure," Hermione sighed and began reading Ginny's small writing. By the time she had finished, Ginny had set a large mug of steaming tea in front of her along with a blueberry muffin that looked freshly made by Mrs. Weasley, perhaps the day before.

"Okay, this section here on treatments, you're waffling on a bit; it reads like you can't find the right words. Just this part, try to be more concise. And here..." Hermione tapped her finger along another section, "I think you should elaborate on side effects a little more. The first part seems overly wordy and second, extremely vague. But all the information is correct as far as I can tell. It's just the wording."

Hermione handed Ginny back her work and the girl thanked her, blowing on her own mug of tea.

"So... Fill me in, here. You're marrying my brother in officially less than three months. Do tell," she leaned in close, expectantly.

"Tell what?" Hermione laughed.

"How did we _get _here?" Ginny shook her head.

"Well, we just agreed on January 1st, and I asked George yesterday about Hogwarts, by the way, and he said that whatever I want is fine, so the courtyard it is. I'm thinking in the evening, what do you think?" Hermione posed the question and broke her muffin up into pieces.

"You just came up with this? Out of nowhere? I thought you didn't think of these sorts of things," Ginny didn't answer the question.

"I sort of... saw it. I was hiking," Hermione sipped her tea. "And I sat down on a boulder to rest and I was thinking about all of this and it just sort of popped into my head. I'm just going to trust my subconscious an go with what it provided. It was pretty, so there's no use denying I would like it," Hermione answered.

"Tell me, tell me, tell me," Ginny begged. "I've been looking through bridal magazines in preparation for Holy Matrimony Fest '99. I've got them all upstairs; did you want to borrow some? Might help you decide what you like and what you _know _you don't like."

"That might be a good idea. Anyway," Hermione took a deep breath, "I didn't see much, just the courtyard at night. It was clear out and I'm sure it was cold but I guess there's a charm or something we can use to keep people warm? And the big tree in the yard was sort of the background, and it was covered in ice crystals and the whole thing was glittering and there was fresh snow on the ground. Everything was white," Hermione mused, not having realized it before while she was standing on the slope of the embankment near her cabin.

"Ooooh, sounds lovely. I've never really thought of a winter wedding before," Ginny reflected in return.

"Nor me," Hermione admitted. "But that's what the future holds, so I better get a move on."

"Alright, if you look through the magazines, mark things you like and you can show me on the weekend, yeah? It's like homework, but exciting homework! I wish that's all I had to do," Ginny sighed, and looked hopelessly at her assignments and research books.

"You'll be done soon! After January all you'll really have to do is plan your own wedding," Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeah. I'm taking my exams in the first week of December, and then after that I'm all yours for whatever you need help with. I can help with stuff before, it's just that after the 4th I'll be completely at your disposal," Ginny beamed.

"And for that, I thank you. I have the feeling you're going to be helping me out a lot; I barely know where to start," Hermione's eyes widened.

"Well, like I said, magazine flipping this week. Gather those ideas. Think about colours and flowers and whatnot and then when I see you next we can start putting something together. We're going to have to go dress hunting soon, too," Ginny looked like she had just struck gold.

"Alright. Anything else?" Hermione cocked her head.

"I just want to know how it's going with you and George," Ginny smirked.

"It's going fine," Hermione voiced, exasperated.

"How's the _tension_?" Ginny pressed, her eyes glinting.

"I'll manage," Hermione glared.

"The way I hear it, you're managing quite well. Fred tells me you laid one on him in the middle of Diagon Alley after running down the street and yelling like a banshee," Ginny slipped in slyly.

"Exaggerations," Hermione countered.

"But there is truth in there, is there not?" Ginny pressed. "What possessed you, my mild-mannered over-thinking easily-embarrassed friend?"

"Ah, well," Hermione breathed, "I used one of those charms of the twins' and things were a little..."

"Rousing? Electrifying? _Stimulating_?" Ginny suggested, lips twitching.

"You could say that," Hermione laughed and flushed, remembering the feel of her legs curling around his hips and the way his hand had pressed hard on her back to shift her forward on the countertop, closer to him.

"_Hermione_! You didn't tell me you had progressed to having steamy dreams of the two of you!" Ginny hissed, checking to make sure Mrs. Weasley was still occupied upstairs and out of earshot.

"It was one! And it wasn't even that bad. There was still clothing, for god's sake!" Hermione dropped her head, grinning.

"Its only a matter of time now. You've started down the path of corruption," Ginny held her nose high, trying to hide a smirk.

"Whatever will I do?" Hermione threw a hand to her forehead melodramatically.

"Shag him silly," Ginny uttered confidently, and Hermione's jaw dropped in shock.

"That's your brother you're talking about!"

"I have no shame! I just don't want the details," Ginny grinned. "Do you think you'll wait until after the wedding?"

"I don't know. He alluded to sort of ignoring the wedding, as it _has _to happen, and just taking things at the pace we might normally if we were just dating and try not to feel pressured into any feelings or anything else. I get the feeling he was trying not to scare me off or something," Hermione giggled.

"My brother said that? How _sweet_," Ginny cooed.

"I think I might last okay if I never take another one of those damned charms again," Hermione mumbled.

"Alright, stop grumbling and get to work," Ginny summoned a few magazines and they came zooming into her outstretched hands from upstairs. "Take these. Complete your homework. We'll talk on the weekend, okay? Owl me if you get any more ideas. Or, you know..." she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"I'm not going to owl you to inform you of when I've had sex with your brother. That's weird," Hermione laughed.

"Alright, sure you won't," Ginny banished their dishes to the kitchen.

Hermione said her good byes and ran through the rain again, holding her coat over her head and shoulders. The clouds were hanging low but it wasn't raining in Diagon Alley and Hermione trotted down to the shop.

"Morning!" Fred called when he looked around at the sound of the bell above the door jangling. "You're here early! Didn't George tell you you could come in later?" He was standing on a tall ladder fixing a display high on the wall of the staircase.

"He did, but I'm a morning person," Hermione answered, making her way towards the back room.

"Urgh, how unfortunate for you," Fred shuddered and Hermione laughed.

The back room was exactly as they had left it, as George said it would be. Hermione hung her coat and bag from one of the pegs on the wall by the door and tied her hair up again. She had made it through most of the remaining shelves by the time the door opened again and George walked in, magenta robes dazzling.

"Good afternoon, love," he shrugged off the offending garment and hung it next to Hermione's trench. "How is the work room today?"

"Cleaner than it was yesterday. And marginally more organized," Hermione wiped her forehead with the back of her hand slowly, stretching upright from her bent position. "What time is it?"

"Just after noon. Verity's taken over out there," George hooked his thumb at the door.

"Busy?" Hermione inquired.

"Not very, but it's midday on a Tuesday. I'm going to be in the office if you need me, I've got expense reports to do," George sighed.

"Okay. I'll be right here," Hermione gestured around herself.

George left and Hermione plowed on. By the time she left that evening, the whole wall of shelves had been cleaned and all the supplies had been organized by letter; small jars up higher, large urns down lower, and they all gleamed after having been rid of their dust and grime. Hermione had poked her head into the office to find George up to his eyebrows in papers, a weariness about him that could only mean he'd been at it too long.

"Why don't you call it a night, George? It's dark out now. You can finish this tomorrow can't you?" Hermione had timidly suggested.

"I could, or I could finish it now and spend tomorrow with you in the back room," George laughed.

"You can spend Friday in the back room with me. Go upstairs and get some rest or you'll be no use to me tomorrow," Hermione laughed quietly and he dropped the papers back onto his desk.

"I suppose you're right; wouldn't want one of us sprouting elephant ears or breaking out in boils, etcetera. You're leaving now too I suppose?" George stood and stretched.

"Yes, I've finished in the back room. Tomorrow I'll start a few of the easier things, and then you can help me on Friday with the big things. Sound good?" she smiled up at him as he moved closer to her spot by the door.

"Very," he answered, a quirk to his lips.

* * *

><p>Thursday passed quickly with George still submerged in the office, and Hermione used that time to familiarize herself with the massive tome of directions on how to make every single Weasley invention that had ever made it to the shelves of their store. There was a section for charms, jinxes, potions; anything they had come up with and refined enough to be acceptable for public consumption. Hermione had to admit it was rather extensive and very detailed, out of necessity surely, for Hermione could foresee many complications if they had been vague in note-taking and someone had tried to recreate their work only for something to backfire on them horrifically.<p>

On Friday, Verity had jotted down a list of things they sold the most of for her to check out in the book and start to make, and Hermione enjoyed the process of learning; she had not been in this state of mind since school, and found she very much missed it.

After successfully brewing and bottling her very first batch of Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher for the WonderWitch line, Hermione surveyed her handiwork. She had followed all the directions to the letter and the finished product looked like an exact duplicate of the ones still on the shelf for sale and Hermione was quite pleased with herself. When she poked her head into the office again to show George her handiwork, she was greeted by the sight of George laying face first on his desk.

"George?"

A grunt was emitted from under his ginger hair, but he did not move.

"Are you alright?"

Another grunt.

"Did you go brain dead after all that paperwork?"

Another grunt, but Hermione assumed it was one of the affirmative.

"Shall we go get something to eat? It's midday," Hermione suggested.

George's head popped up and wobbled uncertainly on his shoulders, and Hermione laughed. He blinked open a bleary eye to survey her, overly-dazed and comical.

"Food? Did you say... Food?"

"I did. Here, put this on, it's probably still raining," Hermione plucked his coat from the peg by the door and tossed it to him. At the mention of food he was much more alert and dropping his unfortunate facade of tragically exhausted.

"Aye aye, Captain. Where are we off to?" George slid into his jacket and followed Hermione out into the shop and towards the front door.

"Pub?" she suggested, and he nodded. "Verity, we're just going to grab some lunch; want us to bring you anything?"

"No thanks, Hermione!"

The two of them turned down the street outside and Hermione slid her hand into his for the first time since Monday when he had walked her to the apparition point and seen her home safely. Just the simple brush of their fingers together and the solid sturdy holding of hands sent her heart aflutter; so pleasant was the feeling of being held by him, it made her long hopefully for the moments to come when he would hold more of her close.

They regretfully had to part when they sat at their table and after they ordered lunch, the two gazed somewhat bemusedly at one another. Both knew the reason without having to ask the other; they were still adjusting to this new mutual understanding between them.

"So what did you get up to this morning?" George asked, sipping his butterbeer and removing the foam from his upper lip with his lower.

"I made a batch of pimple vanisher! You can have a look-see when we get back. I'm pretty sure it's good but you can test it out on something to make sure it's right," Hermione grinned, proud.

"Fabulous. I finished everything in the office so we can have a go at Daydream Charms this afternoon if you like," George replied.

"Oooh, yes please. I really want to see those being made; I've been so curious what goes into them since you sent me that first one," Hermione laughed unabashedly.

"If you don't mind me asking, and let me preface this by saying I won't laugh this time, I swear on Merlin's saggy -"

"George!" Hermione laughed harder.

"What?" George slapped on an expression of shock and bewilderment. "I was just going to ask you to tell me what you saw with the first one. Curious," he flashed her a smirk.

"I already told you," Hermione shook her head.

"No you didn't. Not any details anyway," he countered.

She observed him as she took a drink from her own mug.

"Will you tell me what you saw with the first one then?"

George stuck out his hand for her to shake.

"We make an awful lot of these, it seems," Hermione mumbled and took his hand in hers.

"You first," he chirruped, ignoring her comment. He fixed her with an expectant look and she sighed, smiling.

"I saw myself walk outside the Burrow, and you followed me, and I said I only needed one thing before I was sure. Which was a kiss, by the way, and so you gave it. And then I said yes," Hermione tried very hard to keep the suggestion of details from flitting across her face; of his hand on her cheek and his hips against hers and pressing her into the porch post. He squinted his eyes at her but let her pass unscathed with her semi-deception.

"Sounds tame," George tested her.

"It was," Hermione answered, and though it was fairly tame, Hermione knew in her imagination what it would lead to thanks to her most recent foray into the realm of creative dream imagery.

"But you said yes. That's a good sign," he winked at her from across their small table, his chair leaning back on two legs.

"And you?"

"I'm pleased to say my imagination supplied an occasion only for hand-holding, so it turns out you're the randy one," he answered, face neutral but lips twitching.

"I'm sure," Hermione rolled her eyes and their food arrived.

When they arrived back at the shop a short time later they immediately set about the process of making a few Daydream Charms. The first few Hermione cast were a little shaky on the technique, but George soon corrected her.

"Like this," he said, moving behind her. "May I?"

"Yes," Hermione levelly expelled, discreetly savouring the smell of him that surrounded her as he stood behind her and placed his hand over hers on her wand.

"The movement's like this," he demonstrated. "You've got to add a bit of hardness at the end of that flick there, or it just doesn't have the punch we need for it to be effective. A bit more brutish and a little less graceful, if you get my drift," he stepped back and Hermione tried the movement again. "Yes, yes, perfect, as usual. Okay try with the incantation _now_."

Hermione took a calming breath and tried to put the thoughts of his warmth that had seeped into her side out of her mind for a moment and cast the spell.

"By George, I think I've done it!" Hermione cried and spun to face him, pleased expression on her face.

"By me, I think you have!" he cried and swept her up into his arms. "You'll be a pro in no time!"

"Who would have ever thought Hermione Granger would be assisting the Weasley twins with classroom distractions?" she said quietly as he put her down and the two of them gazed at each other.

"I never thought I'd see the day," he murmured, gently squeezing her hip before releasing her. The brief pressure there set Hermione's senses on edge and she drew a calming breath through her nose.

"So should I test one to make sure I've done it right?" she asked a moment later.

"Well," George pondered, "I think _I _should. If you've done anything wrong, I'd rather I end up at St. Mungo's in the spell damage ward than you," he laughed lightly.

"Have they named a wing after you two yet?" Hermione asked facetiously.

"Shouldn't be long now, surely," George answered honestly, though chuckling at her remark. "Give it here. You'll have to stand watch and make sure I don't go into convulsions or start foaming at the mouth."

"So confident in my talents, I see," Hermione teased and sat opposite him at the table, both perched on stools.

"Okay, in all seriousness, holler for Fred if something goes wrong, but otherwise just kick me hard in the shin to shake me out of it once it's obvious it works right. _Which I'm sure it will_, so stop giving me that look," George laughed at her humorous offended look and opened the familiar box. Hermione gave him a little wave of her fingers before she saw his eyes glaze over and she wondered if she looked like that when she used one.

Probably.

George's eyes fluttered and he leaned forward, balancing his chin in his hand and his elbow on the table. How he was managing to keep his eyelids open, Hermione didn't know; whenever she used one it made her so drowsy feeling that she had to let them close.

For a few minutes, Hermione watched on as his breathing slowed and his mouth maintained an easy upward quirk. Staring into his half-open eyes, she wondered ferociously what was flitting through his mind just then. If only she had a way to know.

Well, he wasn't foaming at the mouth, having convulsions, or moaning in pain, so it must be okay. Hermione was just about to rise from her seat and shake him back to the land of the conscious when his breathing changed.

Hermione observed, perplexed, as his breathing became quicker and his cheeks flushed lightly. Now she _really _wanted to see what he was seeing. Latently Hermione pondered if this was what happened to her; after her last encounter with these charms she had come to on the couch at her cabin, flushed and sweaty and breathing heavily.

Any thoughts were dashed from her mind when she heard him mumble something under his breath, half formed.

With bated breath she leaned in, waiting to see if he would do it again.

An almost inaudible '_Hermione_' slid out and her heart pounded so loud in her ears she thought she'd never hear anything else over it. She rose from her seat and rounded the table.

Was this wise?

Her heart thudded in her chest loudly and she threw caution to wind. She leaned in close, pulling her hair out of the way and lowering her ear until it was inches from George's mouth. She waited, hoping against hope he would make any sort of sound again.

Minutes passed.

"_Hermione_," he uttered again and it sent shivers down her neck and back. Never had she heard his voice drip the way it just had, with want so intense it was painful even to her. Hermione stepped back, her mind frozen and racing at the same time. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was seeing something very similar to what she had last time.

Did he know there was a risk of making any noise with these? Or had the twins never encountered a situation such as this while they were putting the charms through trails? Did he know he would utter her name for her to hear?

Undeniably, heat flooded Hermione's veins and she fought to slow her heart. There was a pulsing and a tightening in her and she struggled to shake herself of the thought for now.

"George," Hermione clasped his shoulders and shook him lightly. "George! Wake up!"

He jumped in her hands and swiveled his head to look at her dazedly. His ginger hair clashed with the pink in his cheeks and his blue eyes were bright as she'd ever seen them and she wanted nothing more than to lean down and snog him senseless. But that course of action was highly inadvisable she knew, for they were both flushed and likely to take things too far. Unwise, indeed.

"Hermione?" he breathed and she was still close enough to feel his breath across her cheek.

"Yes?" she breathed.

"Are you real?" he asked lightly, his breathing slowing.

"Yes," she giggled, tension in her bubbling up and breaking to the surface.

"Oh, right," he sighed deeply and the two surveyed each other for a long moment. "So everything was fine I take it?"

"You tell me," Hermione countered and moved back to her seat. "Was it satisfactory?"

"Mhm," his voice deepened just a touch and Hermione had to tamp down even harder on her surfacing inklings. Now was not the time to jump his bones.

"So I can carry on next week then, that's excellent," she tried to steer the conversation back to safe waters, avoiding his eyes.

"I never had any doubts," he voiced.

"I think I'm going to pack in for the night; Ginny's given me homework and I haven't even started it. She'll be livid if I haven't any progress to speak of when we see her Sunday," Hermione commented lightly, rising even though she had only just sat back down.

"Okay. See you then?" George asked and Hermione nodded, committing his adorably flushed face to memory as she threw on her jacket.

"Thank you again for lunch. My turn next time," she smiled and opened the door.

"My pleasure," he waved.

"Bye!" Hermione called over her shoulder and walked purposefully for the door.

The cool evening air washed over her as the door tinkled behind her. What an impossible situation. The tension between the two of them could only go so long before breaking.

But it had only been just over a month! How was this even possible?

* * *

><p>Figuring that time away from George might help ease the tension and restlessness she was feeling, she spent Saturday whiling away the hours with Ginny's magazines and numerous cups of tea. Considering she had been in contact with him all week, which was a new development for them, she had been right; the distance eased whatever it was inside her that craved his attentions and she felt her mind clear marginally. She attempted to keep her mind busy all day and in the end got quite a lot thought about in terms of the wedding. Ginny would be pleased to have so progress, she was sure.<p>

Sunday was bleak but as the day wore on, Hermione became more and more nervous for dinner. After having some time to look back on Friday, she realized she had all but run from the room. Perhaps George had thought he'd done something wrong. Well, she would just have to try to neutralize any tension between them.

Hermione arrived by herself and made quick work of crossing the yard. Inside she could hear voices coming from the sitting room and she gathered most of the guests had shown up already. She was greeted heartily as she came around the corner.

A chorus of "Hermione!" and "Hello!" was heard from the group at large and she made her way around to greet them all. Ginny was sitting on Harry's knee and talking to Fleur while Harry was chatting with Arthur on his other side. Bill, Ron, Charlie, Alyssa and Percy were in a discussion about something to do with Ministry politics and Molly and Lavender were listening to Audrey talk about something or another.

Hermione had barely made it around the room for hugs when the door opened again and George, Fred and Angelina joined them.

"Hello everyone!" George exclaimed and waited until everyone had responded and then shifted their attention to Fred and Angelina before meeting her eyes and sending her a cheeky wink.

At that simple action, Hermione felt herself heat up. How was she ever going to keep herself out of trouble all night when he had done that while being across the room from her? She steeled herself as he approached.

"Hello, love. Get lots done yesterday?" he asked, pleasant smile with no undertones she could detect.

"Yes, actually. When I get round to talking to Ginny, I'm sure she'll be pleased," Hermione threw a glance at her best friend who was again engaged in conversation with Fleur.

"Anything you wish to share with your betrothed?" he joked, throwing an arm over her shoulders and tugging her softly to his side.

"Not yet," she voiced and allowed herself to lean her head onto his arm lightly, hoping to quell her ideas about finding a dark corner.

"Oi! You lot! We have some good news!" Fred called after settling in, attracting the attention of the room.

"What is it?" Ron called out.

"When I was at St. Mungo's for my wrist, we found out... We're expecting!" Angelina beamed and Fred hugged her closer.

"We're pregnant!" Fred exclaimed and the room exploded in congratulations.

"Did you know?" Hermione gasped and turned her head up to look at George amongst the sudden decibel rise.

"Only found out yesterday. They didn't want to say anything until they knew for sure," George grinned and let Hermione go to give the happy couple her own congratulations.

"That's so fantastic!" she bubbled, hugging Fred. "Angelina! Congratulations! How are you feeling?"

"Pretty great! I didn't even know until the Healer was checking me over when I went in for a broken wrist, of all things," she woman squeezed Hermione tight.

"When are you due?" Hermione asked, still excited by the news.

"May 15th, and before you set your mind ticking away, yes. That means I'm six weeks along. Which also means I was pregnant before the law was even passed!" Angelina laughed at Hermione's happily shocked expression. "Can you believe it?"

"George did say the Weasley's were a fertile bunch," Hermione laughed.

Later, when the couple had been passed around for well-wishes and back slaps, the family sat down to dinner. The kitchen table had to be lengthened in order to fit all sixteen of them and long benches were in lieu of chairs.

"So do you know what they'll do now?" Hermione asked George as she spooned mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"They were talking about setting a date for the wedding in February sometime, since Angelina doesn't want to be huge walking down the aisle, nor do they want to wait until after the baby is born," George answered, offering her the gravy boat.

"Will they find a house sooner than expected now?"

"I suppose so. Why?"

"Well, I was just thinking that while I'm at Hogwarts there's not much point in getting a bigger space; it'll just be you most of the time until next year. Do you think you'd be alright staying at the flat until next November?"

"Mmm, I should think so, as long as you promise to visit as often as you can," he laughed. "I'll get lonely, you know."

Hermione laughed and cut off a piece of roast beef, savouring the taste in her mouth.

"I'm serious! After a month of seeing you just about every day, I'll miss you," he mumbled.

Hermione felt her cheeks flush at his words and she smiled, laying a hand on his arm.

"I'll miss you too, George. I'll try to visit as much as I can. You can always come see _me_, you know!" she voiced.

"I doubt McGonagall will let me in again unless she absolutely has to," George laughed.

The table was loud with conversation and Hermione and George engaged in a few with people around them. When George laid his hand on her thigh, she was flustered when her first thought was that she craved for it to be higher up than it was.

Tingles were travelling up her nerves and all coming together at her centre. Did he not have any inkling as to what he was doing?

Hermione observed him and she thought he must not; he was talking animatedly to Bill and Charlie about something that sounded a lot to do with Quidditch and every time he gestured with his other hand, Hermione felt the jolt of it on her thigh. She tried to concentrate on something else, anything else, but all she could do was think that if he just gripped her a bit _tighter_, or a bit _higher_...

But this was the dinner table!

"Excuse me," she stood and stepped back over the bench, George's hand falling to his side. "I think I might be coming down with something."

"Are you alright dear? You look a bit flushed," Molly frowned.

"Yes, just need some air, be right back," Hermione rounded the corner and pushed open the back door.

As she leaned her forehead against the chilled post at the edge of the deck, she sighed and her breath fogged up around her and dissipated quickly. A few deep breaths and Hermione was feeling better. Not for the first time that night did she ask herself how she was going to last.

"Hermione?" George's voice broke the momentary silence. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she answered wearily, and turned to see his tall frame emerge from behind the screen.

"You look a bit hot," he commented and stepped closer.

"I feel it," she held a hand to her forehead.

"Do you think you're catching something?" he asked, concerned expression melting her heart.

"I..."

She ought to lie. How would she ever tell him what was actually giving her trouble?

"Alright, what's actually wrong?" he asked perceptively.

"I can't - say," she mumbled, shaking her head.

"Does it have to do with me?" George asked timidly.

"Not everything's about you, George," Hermione responded derisively.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it. Did I do something? Are you worried because Fred and Angelina are already on their way to popping one out?" he posed eloquently.

"No! No. I don't think so. It's... Well it's you, but you didn't do anything bad, it's just..." Hermione trailed off, hand over her eyes, hiding from George's truth-seeking ones.

"Hermione, whatever it is, you can tell me. We've been over this," George stepped closer and plucked her other hand up to hold between his warm ones, making the chill of the air even more apparent.

Maybe if she got it out in the open, it would ease?

"It's just," she whispered, "you make me feel all - tingly and - I just - I'm finding it hard to - keep myself from doing something we'll regret -"

"First of all, I don't think it's possible for me to regret anything to do with you unless it happens to be me making an arse of myself and you being mad at me for something. Second, I don't know if I'm understanding what you're trying to say. Just spit it out!" George chuckled a bit and held her gaze. "Better start with the honesty now, right?"

Hermione laughed and took a deep breath.

"I'm attracted to you," she uttered quietly.

"Are you, now?" he remarked with a surprised tone and a laughter in his eyes which he wisely chose to keep to himself this time.

"Very," Hermione nodded.

"That's what this is all about?" George asked, somewhat bewildered.

"Well, I was before -"

"You were?"

"Yes, and then you took that charm of mine on Friday and you... You were all flushed and, George, you said my _name _and it just made me feel..."

"You didn't tell me I said anything!" George laughed.

"Well, I didn't want to make things awkward," Hermione shook her head.

"Oh yeah and you running from the room wasn't awkward at all," he laughed again.

"I just thought if I brought it up it would be worse..." Hermione explained.

"Hermione, I hope you're smart enough to realize I'm just as attracted to you, if not more. I struggle with this same problem too! You haven't noticed?"

"No, not at all. You hide it well," Hermione mused and held her cold hands to her hot cheeks, trying to cool them.

"Well, it hasn't been easy," he laughed. "Can we just mutually acknowledge that we both feel this way, and perhaps ease your mind by agreeing not to rush into it? This is exactly what I meant by taking our time. I don't want you to feel like we have to pursue these - things - because we're getting married in January. We don't have to act on them at any particular time," George sighed.

"But you want to?" Hermione asked and he just looked at her.

"What do you think?" he answered a question with a question and Hermione remained silent.

"Can we... try things slowly?" she asked, confusing even herself by what she meant.

"I'm not entirely sure what that means, but yes. We can do whatever you want," George answered.

"Can you take me to your place? I want to try something," Hermione asked and George's face reflected his shock. "I just want to try to get used to being near you and not hyperventilating," she clarified.

"Oh, right," he laughed. "Let me just go tell them I'm taking you home because you're not feeling well, and grab our jackets."

He went back inside and Hermione took a deep slow breath. What was she getting herself into?

When he came back out again he had their coats over his arm and a plate of food in his hands.

"Mum insists you eat when you feel better. Come on," he laughed and trudged off out into the yard and she held his elbow as he apparated them to the flat above the shop.

The space was cleaner than she had expected, and masculine. Soft leather couches and a worn coffee table in front of the fire, with rusty orange red walls and lots of warm bronze-ness about the place.

"Alright, what did you want to do?" George asked calmly after setting the plate of food down on the kitchen counter.

"Can you just sit? I just want to sit," Hermione wrung her hands. They had to go through this at some point, might as well be now. George settled into the corner seat of the longer couch and Hermione followed and sat close beside him. He automatically wrapped an arm over her shoulders and she nestled into his side.

"Like that?" George asked and she felt his voice in her chest.

"Mhm," she nodded. "Just talk to me about Quidditch or something."

George indulged her and started in on a tirade about the Chudley Cannons and the Wimbourne Wasps and Hermione just gazed at him as he voiced his opinion on this or that. She was comfortable here, at his side. She angled into him, bending her knees and bringing them up onto the couch with her, her knee resting on his thigh and her feet tucked under her. He talked on, smiling down at her occasionally and carrying on about some technique or another and she concentrated on her breathing. This was easy; this was okay.

And then reached out and laid his hand on her inner thigh and gave it a small squeeze and everything inside her went haywire again. George looked down at her and paused in his speech.

"Is that what it is?" he squeezed her leg again and she squeaked, nodding. The familiar flush was creeping up her chest again and George laughed. "If you did that to me, I'd have the same reaction, guaranteed. Here," she plucked her hand from her lap and set it on his leg. Hermione observed as he held her gaze and after a few minutes and tiny squeeze later, his cheeks were also flushed and he grinned. "Told you. I like you too, Hermione. Nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about."

Hermione continued to gaze up at him, her head laying comfortably on his shoulder. He held her eyes with his own and she pondered calmly in the depths of them. This wasn't so bad. She watched as his eyes darkened just a smidge and the grin faded from his face as he leaned down closer.

"If it's okay with you, I'm going to kiss you now," he mumbled and Hermione felt the words skitter over her exposed arms and chest and slide under her clothes, heading straight for the ball of building tension. As an answer, she tilted her head up and he descended on her.

For the second time, their lips met full-on and Hermione sighed a moan into him. He was gentle and coaxing and Hermione felt herself move her hand to his chest as she sunk deeper into the kiss.

The arm that had been at her shoulder slid down her back and pulled her closer at the bend of her waist. She found his opposite shoulder with her hand and squeezed in response. His lips slanted over hers again and again, tortuously. Hermione felt the ball of tension growing, and moaned again.

This time George responded with his own, low in his throat and Hermione felt a tightening at her core. Surely this was what heaven felt like. They kissed on, occasionally breaking for oxygen when absolutely necessary and Hermione had to correct her previous assumption about what heaven felt like when she relented to a pressure from his arm and he lifted her up and pulled her over his lap, settling her on his thighs soundly.

"I have wanted to kiss you so badly for the longest time," he breathed. "So thank you." He leaned in again and she met him enthusiastically, opening for him when his tongue sought her own again softly.

"You're very welcome," she breathed with a laugh, breaking for air and brushing hair out of her face. He grinned at her, face as pink as hers, and he clasped her small waist in his palms, squeezing. She shivered and pressed her palms to his chest between them and dragging them lower slowly. His head dropped back onto the couch behind him and he let out a breath heavily. Dragging her hands up again, she leaned forward, clasped his shoulders and placed a kiss on the exposed column of his neck.

Whatever she had thought would happen, she was surprised. His hands wrapped tighter around her waist, pulling her closer and simultaneously his hips rose up to meet hers roughly. Startled and pleased at the same time, Hermione could not stop a heady groan from leaving her lips at his actions and she was reminded instantly of the dream when he had pulled her closer on the counter in the cabin and just exactly as he had in the dream, George's hips found hers perfectly again and he was holding her so close she felt his groan rumble in the space by her belly between them. His head had snapped up and he left one hand on her hip to secure her where he wanted her and the other left her side to tilt her head for him just as he liked. His lips parted hers hotly and -

"Feeling better, I see!" Fred's voice made them both jump violently on the couch and Hermione dropped her head to George's shoulder as he brushed her hair out of the way to survey his twin who had just appeared out of the fire behind Hermione.

"Much better," George laughed and Hermione shook with the same in his lap.

"I'll just be back there. In my room. If you should need me. But I doubt you will. Sorry!" he called and his door slammed shut after his retreating form.

Mortified but still laughing, Hermione raised her head from George's shoulder and they looked at each other and laughed.

"Well, he has great timing," George commented and Hermione lifted herself lightly off his lap, feeling that perhaps it was a good thing Fred had interrupted them when he did, though she could feel that her body did not agree and craved the release George's offered.

Slowing her heart rate, Hermione remained at George's side as he did the same, running his hand up and down her arm comfortingly.

"Do you feel better now?" he asked quietly.

"Better, yes. Also more frustrated," she shook her head again.

"Ah, well, one step at a time, yeah?" George commented. "Remember, we're in this together. I feel the same way, right?"

Hermione nodded and eventually pulled herself from his side and stood.

"I should go. I should write Ginny and make plans to see her and tell her I'm fine or she'll hunt me down and be able to tell, somehow, that all I did was come back to yours and get snogged silly."

"Awfully perceptive, that one," he laughed, nodding.

"Not unlike someone else I know," Hermione stared pointedly at him.

"Ah, but doesn't it feel good getting it out there in the open?" he coaxed slyly, eyes glittering.

Hermione left a few minutes and a few more kisses later with a guilty grin on her face.

_Oh, boy._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, that was a monster chapter. But I just couldn't find a place to stop! **

**Leave me a review, people! **

**Can we get to 100 reviews by the time I post the next chapter? I think it's doable!**

**Until then.**

**Cheers!**


	17. Chapter 17

Every time Fred came into the back room on Monday, he cast an obvious look between George and Hermione who were sharing the space peacefully. George would proceed to ignore his twin's antics and Hermione would try to her very best not to remember the position he had found the two of them in the night before after leaving Sunday dinner preemptively. Which of course, Fred knew and exploited relentlessly.

"Everyone decent?" he walked into the room with his eyes covered by one hand and wouldn't let up until one of them answered in the affirmative.

"_Yes_, Fred. Would you _please _shut up about it?" Hermione sighed, starting to lose her patience and frowned into her cauldron. She had successfully brewed another few batches of the pimple vanisher and had moved onto bruise-fader that afternoon. Turns out customers frequently needed something to fade the bruising of a grand old time after using Weasley products to wreak havoc. Who knew?

"I'll thank you not to talk to your boss that way, love, even if you are shagging my slightly less attractive twin," he dazzled her facetiously.

"You're not my boss either," Hermione countered with a sweet smile and glossed over Fred's exaggeration.

"I'm not?" he questioned, puzzled look on his face.

"No. You aren't compensating me for my efforts," Hermione pointed out.

"We're not paying you?" Fred looked to George who nodded his head without raising his eyes from the cauldron in front of him. "Why _not_?"

"Because I don't need the money and I said I'd like to help," Hermione answered, stirring her concoction without pause. "Aren't I sort of marrying into the business anyway?"

"Huh," Fred commented, taken aback. "Well, I suppose we should be buying you lunch more often then. And no, you're not; there's no obligation to you to help us out," Fred's tone had gone somewhat serious.

"I know that," Hermione shot a small smile at him from over her workstation.

"Right," Fred nodded. "Brother of mine, a word?"

Hermione hoped that she had nothing to do with this '_word_' and glanced at George on his way out. He smiled at her so it couldn't be too bad. Shifting her concentration back to her work, she continued slicing up her witch hazel leaves. A few minutes later she heard the door open behind her again.

"I thought I'd find you back here," an unexpected voice greeted her. Hermione turned happily on her stool.

"I wasn't expecting you!" Hermione got up and crossed to Ron, enveloping him in a hug. "What are you here for today?"

"The twins asked me to come in for something," Ron answered, squeezing her shoulders lightly. It must have been drizzling outside as his sweater was dotted with raindrops.

"What for?" Hermione frowned.

"Haven't the foggiest," he replied with a small shrug. "You making stuff for them?"

"Yes, trying to help out a bit before I crawl under a rock and disappear for a year," Hermione nodded, laughing.

"You think it'll be that bad?" Ron questioned, hands in his sweater pockets and cocking his head to the side.

"Well, I'm not sure but I don't plan to keep my hopes for a social life very high for the next year. It's obviously a lot of work and I'd hate to botch it by not committing myself fully," Hermione sat back on her stool.

"Makes sense, I suppose, though I don't see how you could botch it. I don't think you could _even _if you tried," Ron laughed, scratching his nose casually.

"Thanks," Hermione smiled easily and tucked some hair behind her ear.

"So, how are you finding it here?" Ron glanced around the room and over the mostly clean workspaces and gleaming supply wall. "I get the sense you've settled in."

"Yes," Hermione laughed, "I had to. It was a disaster before I reorganized everything. But it's fine now. I've made a few things; I'm just finishing my last batch of bruise remover for today and then I'm leaving a bit early. Ginny's coming over to help me -"

"Pack, yeah, she said. Well good luck. Give us a shout if you need help with anything," Ron shuffled for the door. "Do you know where they are?"

"Office, maybe? They just left a few minutes ago," Hermione suggested and Ron slipped out again.

Hermione proceeded to chop, juice, stir and simmer her ingredients for the next half hour before packaging up the finished product in a flat of little tubs. She cleaned up after herself, popped the flat into the store room and grabbed her things. Making her way to the office, she knocked and waited for the sound of a voice to permit entry. Sticking her head through, she found the three ginger brothers in the midst of serious conversation. George was behind the desk with his arms laying loose on the arms of the chair, and Ron and Fred were sitting in the chairs in front of it. Fred was reclined comfortably with one ankle resting on the opposite knee while Ron leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands laced together.

"Sorry to interrupt, I'm just about to leave. Unless you want me to give Verity a hand until you're done?" Hermione questioned, thinking they may not want any interruptions until they finished.

"Nah, you go on, don't worry about us," Fred smiled and flapped his hand.

"Okay, I've finished another flat of bruise remover and it's in the storeroom for Verity already."

"Alright, thanks love," George winked at her and she rolled her eyes.

"See you tomorrow!"

She shut the door behind herself and waved to Verity on her way out. The afternoon was gray, as expected, and Hermione made her way up the alley to leave for home. Crookshanks greeted her her lethargically with a stretch and Titania was asleep in her open cage on top of the bookcase. Ginny would be arriving soon and Hermione pulled out the magazines she had been looking through the day before.

If nothing else, she had discovered what she did not like for her wedding, but Ginny would know the right questions to put something nice together.

She hoped.

When the redhead finally did arrive, Hermione had out what she assumed all the essentials were for this sort of thing; the magazines, muggle post-its, parchment, ink and quill, pot of tea, and biscuits. The small kitchen island was ready for battle.

"Hello, sorry I'm late," Ginny rushed, dumping her coat and bag on Hermione's bed and ruffling Crookshanks' fur a bit before hiking a leg up and wiggling onto the tall stool beside Hermione.

"I didn't get home from the shop that long ago, no need to rush," Hermione grinned as Ginny settled herself.

"How was _work _today?" she asked cheekily with a shake of her hair.

"It was fine. I made things," Hermione was intentionally vague.

"Anything interesting happen?" Ginny pressed, surveying the number of post-it notes sticking out the top of one of her magazines with a raised brow.

"Well, Ron showed up this afternoon; the twins wanted to talk to him about something. Struck me as quite serious when I stuck my head in the office to say goodbye," Hermione mused.

"Oh, yeah, they sent an owl at the crack of dawn this morning. Didn't say why in the letter though, he showed me," Ginny frowned. "George hasn't said anything to you?"

"No, not a word," Hermione shook her head.

"Ah, well, we're bound to find out what it's all about soon. After all, it is the twins. They can't keep anything to themselves for long," Ginny laughed lightly and peeled off her sweater, throwing it on the bed behind her as well.

"Okay, so where do we start?" Hermione wondered.

"Well, show me what this mess here is all about," she ran her finger over the protruding bits of paper in bright colours along the top of one of the magazines, "and then we'll go from there."

An hour later, the girls had been through the stack of magazines with Hermione's cramped notes marking the things she either liked or detested and Ginny had scribbled out a list of acceptable ideas on some parchment.

"One thing I have to say, is that not only are you wonderfully decisive but also very organized. This isn't going to be as difficult as I thought," Ginny laughed.

"You thought it was going to be difficult?" Hermione quirked.

"To be honest, I thought it would either be like it is, a piece of cake, or that you'd be unsure of every decision we made and changing your mind constantly. Which I'm glad you _aren't_, I'd go mental if you did that," Ginny stacked the magazines neatly on the corner of the worktop.

"Well, we have a list to work from now. I can start with easy things; I'll write Minerva and start looking for a florist?" Hermione ended on a questioning note.

"Yeah, definitely write her. _If _she says no, we'll have to find another place and that will take a bit more work. At least if it's at Hogwarts, you'll have your rooms already and the house elves would take care of the catering. And don't give me that look, you know they'd never let anyone else on the grounds to do it instead of them," Ginny shook her finger in Hermione's direction.

The night outside was dark when Ginny finally grabbed her things again and left for Grimmauld Place. Hermione sat and stared at the debris left behind from their wedding planning hurricane.

First thing first, write McGonagall.

And then start looking for a florist this week.

If she got those two things done and checked off the list by Friday, she would count herself productive. And that may even be possible if she could stop thinking about George for more than two minutes at a time.

The kiss they had shared at the twins' flat on Sunday night had had her preoccupied all day. It was a wonder she had managed to brew any potion correctly but she had somehow managed.

Every second thought seemed to be a flitting memory of his hands on her hips or the feel of his neck under her lips. She dared not try to recall the sounds of his groans for the one time she had allowed herself that guilty pleasure this morning, she had knocked over an almost full jug of diluted essence of dittany. If it were not for George's quick reflexes, the glass container would surely have smashed over her foot.

Hermione wandered over to her bookcases and began shrinking piles of books down and stacking them into a box to take to the cabin.

She had never thought herself capable of drawing those sounds from George's mouth; at best she thought they would get it over with and manage to avoid the wrath of the Ministry by fulfilling the basic requirements of the Injunction for Magical Perpetuation. He would keep her from having to procreate with any other less than savoury purebloods and she would try her damndest to be grateful and do whatever she could to help him with whatever he needed.

So far, she had taken a book deal that would prevent her from doing that for the next year, hence the month of working beforehand. But he had encouraged her to follow her dreams and this was one she didn't even know she had wanted until the opportunity presented itself. Not only would she enjoy doing it, but it would give her more monetary independence, not that she needed it. The Ministry had set her up very nicely after the war for her efforts and she had never worried that she may get herself into trouble not bringing in a regular income. Hermione was not the sort to splurge and be wasteful with money and so she had never had reason to worry. Now with the book deal, she was only putting herself in a better place to take care of children when time came for her to stay home with them.

Wait.

A housewife? Was that what she was going to be?

Would George expect her to stay at home with their kids with no career to speak of until they had all left for Hogwarts?

That didn't sound like him at all, Hermione reasoned, but they would need to talk about it. He seemed to be under the impression she would be leaving him to provide for the family, whether she wanted a career or not. Surely he could see that she would go mental with no intellectual outlet. Really, it was in everyone's best interests for Hermione to work outside the home.

One box full, she set it aside and started another one for the stuff under her bed now that the bookcases were empty. She pulled out her birthday gifts; the new leather case and the fluffy white quill. Lovingly she set them aside for last. She would start using those when she went to Hogwarts to start this project. They marked a new stage in her life, happily.

Resolving to speak to George about his expectations of child rearing sometime later this week, Hermione finished packing the rest of the box of things she would not be needing immediately and set that box aside as well.

* * *

><p>Tuesday passed quietly. The twins did not make many appearances in the back room for they spent most of their time in the office in deep conversation about something Hermione assumed she would be privy to when they had made up their minds on something. Instead, Hermione spent her day zooming through batches and batches of needed products, filling the storeroom significantly for the work of one day.<p>

Wednesday brought similar results and Hermione popped her head into the office once more to inform them she was leaving a bit early to make a trip to a muggle florist in the city that had received good commendations. Although she did not need anything complicated or overly involved, Hermione wanted to be sure her business would be taken care of properly and in a timely manner. She really didn't have time to spare in the next two and a half months.

"Alright, I'm off. I have a florist to check out before they close. See you two tomorrow!" Hermione waved and made her way toward the front of the store. She had just dodged a small child also running for the front door and banging it open in the process to get outside to his mother, when she heard her name being called.

"Hermione, wait!"

She stopped as she was rounding the front window and turned, craning her neck back to look at who had called for her.

"Hey," George jogged out of the store after her and came to a stop. "I just wanted to let you know that I would fill you in about all the stuff with Ron and the hushed conversations soon. We're just trying to figure something out and then -"

"You don't really owe me an explanation," Hermione shook her head, pleased all the same he had chosen to reassure her.

"I know, but it doesn't really have anything to do with you now, but it will in the future. It's about the shop," he elaborated at her look of shocked curiosity.

"Alright, I'll pretend that I don't want to demand an answer right this second," she laughed and George grinned.

"So you're going to a florist? Is that something I should be doing with you? Or helping with? Actually, is there anything I can do? I should be helping, I've just been so distracted with this thing..."

"It's okay. I do have to go now before I'm too late and they close, but how about we talk about it tomorrow?" Hermione took a step back to emphasize her point of needing to depart post haste.

"Okay, just one more thing. There's a get together on Friday night, with Lee and Katie and Alicia and Oliver, and some others I think, and I wanted to know if you'd go with me? If you can?" George had a hopeful look on his face and raised his shoulders slightly.

"Of course, yes, that sounds lovely," Hermione grinned, warmth spreading reassuringly from her belly button to all her extremities and she edging towards the apparition point. She stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders pulling herself up and him down at the same time. "If it's okay with you, I'm going to kiss you now," she echoed his sentiments from the other night and grinned, breath ghosting across his lips. She sighed happily at the very brief sight of his eyelids fluttering closed before her and closed the gap between them.

Unlike their last public kiss, she had not been running down the street after him and yelling his name, attracting attention. This kiss was quiet and unhurried, private. No one seemed to pay them any mind and Hermione much preferred it that way.

His lips were warm and his shoulders cold and he pulled her closer to him. She realized he was standing outside with no jacket just as his hand found its way between her shirt and her jacket at her back and his arm slithered into the warm confines with a shudder. A shudder of pleasure or chilliness, she didn't know; she had just lightly swiped the very tip of her tongue against his lower lip when he pulled away to look at her.

"Don't you have a florist to get to?" he questioned with a smirk. "If I were you I'd leave before I change my mind and persuade you to stay."

"And how would you do that, pray tell?" Hermione loosened her grip and touched the heels of her sneakers back to the cobblestone.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" George drawled, igniting a spark. "See you tomorrow, love."

"Bye!"

In a swirl of trench coat she was jogging up the street and jumping over puddles as she went. Her heart pounded in her chest from their brief encounter; she could still feel his arm under her jacket, holding her tight to him at the centre of her back, more or less along her spine.

She would be grateful to know what was going on with the twins, and with Ron, with Angelina, with them.

The florist was accommodating and spoke with Hermione about what she wanted. In the end, Hermione had placed the order with them and made arrangements to go in next week to see a sample of what they were going to put together for her. When she arrived home she found a response from Headmaster McGonagall on her counter; it looked like she had managed to complete her two small tasks for this week already.

Hermione ripped into her letter anxiously.

_'Hermione,_

_I would be happy to allow such events to take place on Hogwarts grounds. Your choice of location in the castle courtyard is a fantastic one. We can, of course, discuss the how of outdoor winter nuptials when you come to visit. Please feel free to come anytime next week so that we may discuss not only the plans for your wedding to Mr. Weasley but also to allow a time for us to go over your impending change of home. I would be happy to show you what we have set up for you and I will answer all of your questions then._

_Don't hesitate to owl,_

_Minerva'_

* * *

><p>"Hermione, do you have a minute?" Fred knocked on the door frame to the back room. She turned to face him from the shelves with an armful of supplies.<p>

"Sure, just a moment," she moved to set them down by her cauldron before following him out and toward the office. When he shut the door behind the two of them she was greeted by the sight of George once again sitting fairly relaxed in the chair behind the desk; Ron seemed marginally more comfortable compared to last time.

"Have you made up your minds about whatever it is you've been pondering over this last week?" she asked, settling into the other empty chair beside Ron while Fred moved to lean against a filing cabinet behind his twin.

"Yes, but more importantly, Ron has. This whole thing hinged on his agreement," George answered. "I said I'd fill you in, right?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, since I found out Angelina's pregnant already, we had to expedite some plans we'd already been thinking about," Fred started. "We were thinking of asking Ron to consider working with us instead of going into Auror training in January with Harry and helping us run the business. That way, when the babies start being born across the board, there's three of us instead of two."

"We already know everyone's going to have at least one kid in just under three years, which means taking a bit of time off for us at some point. If Ron steps in to help while one of us is away, it's not going to be such a catastrophe," George continued.

"So you're coming to work here too?" Hermione questioned Ron directly, holding her breath.

"Yeah, I think so. I'm going to help out from now until Christmas sort of as a trail, but I think I'll be fine. If I decide against it, I can still go to Auror training in the new year with Harry and the twins will ask Charlie if he wants to take my place. But I think this'll work. It's good for everyone," Ron answered with a casual smile.

"You're going to give up being an Auror?"

"Well..." Ron started, "Things have changed. With the I.M.P. everything's going to be different. I know I'm risking sounding like a prat, but we sort of have to do whatever we can to make the best of it. And sticking together isn't ever usually a bad thing."

"So, what does that mean for the company?" Hermione turned to ask George, giving him a smile to indicate that she was very appreciative of them including her in the conversation.

"Well, Fred and I will remain majority shareholders but in time we'll cut Ron in on the partnership," he answered sounding every bit the businessman he was.

"Congratulations!" Hermione reached out to squeeze Ron's arm and he beamed.

"You think it's a good idea?" he asked her quietly.

"Of course," she replied quickly, "you are right, allowing the responsibility to be shared between three people will make it easier for all three of you to have families and deal with what that all comes with in the next three years and beyond. Having a plan in place now will only benefit everyone down the road," she reasoned.

"I told him you'd say that," George laughed and Fred grinned from behind him.

"So you're okay with possibly working with me? I'm not going to drive you crazy?" Ron laughed.

"Oh, you'll drive me crazy, we already know that," Hermione quipped but gave his arm another squeeze before sitting back in her chair. "So that's what you've all been whispering about, hmm?"

They all nodded and a knocking sounded at the door.

"Come in!"

Verity's head appeared, frazzled looking.

"Sorry to be a bother but could I get a hand, please? Apparently everyone in Diagon Alley thought it'd be a good idea to come in and ask questions this afternoon," Verity laughed.

"Of course," Fred stood up straight and grabbed his magenta robes on his way out to the floor with Verity.

"And I'll take that as my cue," Ron stood. "I have to go tell Lavender about the change of plans."

"What does Lavender think of all this?" Hermione stood too.

"Well, she's finishing up training right now so kids aren't going to happen for at least a year but we have plenty of time before we make it onto the Ministry hit list for not repopulating fast enough. So she's alright with it, yeah, thinks it'll be good to be a part of a family business. A lot safer than being an Auror, she said. I don't think anyone's told her how dangerous it can be here," Ron laughed and George nodded.

Ron left a few minutes later after he and George had made arrangements for Ron to come in next week and get an overview of the business.

"So you're still coming to the pub tonight, yeah?" George asked her when they were finally alone.

"Yes, of course," she answered. "Where are we going?"

"Oh just the Leaky," he replied. "We aren't a fancy bunch."

"Who's going to be there?"

"Lee and Alicia, Oliver Wood and Katie Bell, Fred and Angelina and you and I," he listed. "We were hoping for some others but it doesn't look like they'll make it tonight."

"Okay," Hermione nodded, satisfied, and crossed her legs, turning to face George more fully.

"So did you make out well the other day? With the flower person? You never said."

"Oh, yes, I did. I've placed the order and I'm going in next week to see a sample of a bouquet that we had spoken about," Hermione nodded. "That doesn't strike me as something you want to go with me to see. Boring, really."

"Well will you at least tell me about it? Don't the flowers you choose sort of depend on the colours you choose as well?" George frowned and spoke slowly, as if he was trying to follow a particularly wiggly thought.

"Yes, I thought maybe a dark blue, since everyone standing up there except me will have ginger hair," Hermione laughed, smoothing her own locks down.

"Oh okay. Is that a good colour for gingers?" he laughed.

"I guess we'll see," Hermione chuckled. "I'm going to go finish what I was doing; what time are we meeting everyone?"

"Around six," George rose with Hermione.

"Alright, I have time then."

George came around the desk and reached for her arm, pulling her into his. Her heart beat harder in her chest, a forceful thumping against her ribs as she looked up at him and watched as he soaked in her features.

"I have been dying for a kiss all day," he said, cheeky grin on his face.

"I suppose you should give me one then," she grinned and raised her chin in anticipation.

George seemed to be in no hurry to get to the point; he brushed her hair back and leaned in slowly, dragging his lips over hers at a pace she considered torturous. However, as her body urged her to clutch at him and implore him to move faster, or harder, she forced herself to remain placid. The feeling of surrender bubbled her up and she took care to remember his movements clearly.

This was the time for an unrushed, less frantic exploration, a moment they had not had before.

George's tongue found its way to hers and she sighed happily as a heat started to pool in a now familiar way. A gentle pressure at the bend of her waist sent tingles over her skin, the feeling of his hand wrapped around such a sensitive spot and the fact that it was so large in comparison to her own a welcome realization.

Another realization came to Hermione as he tugged oh so lightly on the hair at the base of her neck; this man was holding her so gently, so reverently, as if he treasured her. Not delicately, as if she were made of porcelain, but with such deference and respect, and she knew from experience that this was just one of many ways in which he held her.

This way was perhaps the most slowly and deeply scorching, however.

The passionate clasping kiss from the couch had had the fast burn immediate heat feeling; the kiss in the Alley had been desperate and all sense-consuming in an almost affirming way; this was a spark of fire turned liquid and sliding like honey through her veins, the slow burn she had read about in many of her mother's paperbacks as a young teenager.

"Not that I don't want to carry on all afternoon," George broke off for air, "but can we finish this a bit later, when we're not in the office at work?" he breathed heavily, eyes darkened as she had seen them on Sunday night when she had been pressed into his lap.

"Is that a promise?" she asked, sounding far more sure of herself than she felt in the moment.

The look he fixed her with as she breezed to open the door assured her without a doubt that they would be picking up where they left off later that night and she blushed under the intensity of his gaze, even as she retreated back to the work room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: You guyssss! We made it to 100 reviews! That blows my mind.  
><strong>

**Thankyouthankyouthankyou. All of the words of encouragement are what keep me opening up the chapter document every day and adding onto it.**

**As always, let me know what you think. **

**Until next chapter.**

**Cheers!**


	18. Chapter 18

Hermione had finished up that afternoon after she had been filled in on the plans the twins had for the company and then gone home to shower and change for later when the group had agreed to meet at the Leaky Cauldron. She had puttered around in clean jeans and a Weird Sisters t-shirt and packed a bit more of her apartment up. Tomorrow she would probably go into the shop early and then leave in the afternoon to take her stuff to the cabin. It was already into the second half of October and she didn't want to leave it too long.

There was a faint _pop _followed by a light knocking at the front door.

"Come in, it's open!" she called just loud enough to carry through to George on the other side.

"Hello," he stepped into the kitchen and shut the door behind himself. Hermione was just shrinking down the last empty bookcase and stowing it in the open box of shrunken furniture she had been accumulating. Currently she had a box of tiny books, a box of everything that had been under her bed, a box of towels, sheets and bathroom things, a box of tiny clothes, and an open box filled with the bookcases, the dresser, the side table and the leather chair Hermione used to read. Being a witch was so much easier in times like these.

"Hi again," Hermione responded, letting Titania out the window for the night and setting her cage on the floor in the corner.

George stepped farther into the apartment and surveyed the emptiness left behind by her efforts. His eyes fell on the kitchen island still covered in magazines, post-it notes, a list, some correspondence and a ruffled looking quill and an inkwell. Hermione watched as he jumped suddenly when Crookshanks meowed loudly from down by his heel and thumped his head against George's ankle. Despite calling him a beast in the past, George bent down and scratched the kneazle's head behind his ear and grinned when he pulled a purr almost immediately from him.

"What's all this?" he straightened and motioned to the wedding hurricane that sat out on the island, poking about and shifting a paper or two.

"Just planning some things out and looking for ideas. Ginny was helping me last night," Hermione grabbed her canvas jacket and slid into it, throwing a gray scarf over top and making sure she had some money and her wand. She approached him in order to apparate back to Diagon Alley and he looked her up and down shamelessly.

"You look nice," he commented, grinning and oozing confidence in his leather jacket. Though Hermione had never seen it before the day she had thrown herself into his arms in Diagon Alley, she had to admit it suited him. It was a dark coffee brown, so dark it was almost black and she remembered it being quite soft under her palms from when she had kissed him.

"Thank you," she replied bashfully as he tugged lightly on one of the curls that was trapped against her neck under her scarf, peeking out from under it. She pulled all her hair up and let it tumble messily down over her shoulders and George looked as if he was restraining the urge to touch it again. Instead, she took his hand in hers and braced herself for side-along apparition.

George held Hermione back by their laced hands when she made for the exit to the Alley and to the pub at the other end. She looked back at him in the circular brick alcove as the singular gas lamp cast shadows over the angles of his face, eyes twinkling even in the darkness.

"What's wrong?" she asked when he didn't move under the pressure of her hand.

"Nothing," he replied. "I just thought I would show you what I'll be wanting to do the whole time we're at the pub." He pulled her back against him softly and once again wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her there.

"And what's that?" Hermione breathed, knowing exactly what was coming.

"This," he answered lightly and lowered his head once more. Hermione found the the fact that his lips were a bit dry and rough in stark contrast to her soft ones and a shiver ran down her spine at the feel of his on hers; it was starting to become a familiar feeling now and she fell into it more and more easily every time he kissed her. Hermione's hands once again found his jacket and she pulled herself up closer to his level. A chilly breeze blew her hair over her face, brushing his, and he reached up to pull it back again, holding it at the nape of her neck for her. Spurred by confidence, Hermione reached one of her own hands up to run through his hair, scratching the scalp softly as she did so. "Ahhh," George breathed out raggedly as he broke the kiss at her actions and tilted his head back, letting her hair fall again.

"Did I hurt you?" she puzzled.

"The opposite, in fact," he raised his head again and regarded her in his arms. "Sorry, but I couldn't go in there without kissing you again."

"Please, don't stop on my account," Hermione laughed and flushed at her brazen remark.

"Well, on account of the others waiting for us..." George led them out into the open alley and they started for the Leaky Cauldron as Hermione righted her jacket and tried to tame her hair again. Hands still laced together loosely, the pair entered the pub through the back, light spilling warmly out onto the cobblestones in the open doorway around them. Hermione trailed after George, his arm extended behind himself as he wove his way over to the large booth that already had their group at it.

"Hello!" George called as he drew up to it and the table turned to him and Hermione as she followed to stand at his side and the group greeted them back.

"Oi, shove up - there we go - sit by me, Hermione," Angelina smiled from the end of the U-shaped booth seat. The others were shuffling down and making room for the two new people and Hermione slid in thankfully next to Angelina, glad to have someone she knew she got on with next to her.

"You remember Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Oliver Wood?" Fred asked, drawing her attention across the table.

"Of course, hello," Hermione smiled at the group and they greeted her back kindly. George slid in next to her on the edge and put his arm over her shoulders, holding her to his side loosely.

"Now that everyone's here, we have a few announcements," Angelina started and Hermione had a feeling she knew what was coming.

"We've set a date for the wedding because we're expecting!" Fred dropped the bomb and their friends flew into happy laughter and congratulations.

"What's the dates then, wedding and then baby?" Katie inquired from across the table, holding Angelina's hand tightly in her own, very large smile in place.

"Well, wedding February 20th, next year. And baby May 15th or so," Angelina turned her head to gaze at Fred with large happy eyes glittering. After the group had expressed their happiness through manly handshakes and girlish squeals, they ordered dinner and drinks. Angelina happily nursed a glass of water with no complaints.

Everyone was very friendly with Hermione, not that she thought they would be otherwise; they just weren't people she really hung out with at Hogwarts, being Quidditch enthusiasts a year or two older than her. They did, however, seem mindful of the fact that she would not have much to say on the subject of sport and tried to keep the team talk to a minimum.

"Hermione's going back to Hogwarts in November," George boasted, grinning and talking a long gulp from his pint of amber liquid. He had been making sure she caught his eye on occasion and she knew he was thinking of the kiss they had shared not that long ago.

"To teach?" Alicia asked, munching on her french fries.

"I think you'd be a great teacher. Bloody strict," Lee teased, not unkindly.

"Thank you, but no," Hermione laughed. "I'm going back for research for a book project. I'm adding onto _Hogwarts, A History _to catch it up to present times now that the war is over."

"Wow!"

"That's amazing!"

"Congratulations!"

"Thank you," Hermione smiled and sat back against the booth warmly, having finished her plate of food and sipping the last of her own drink.

"So what will you do while Hermione's away?" Katie delved, curiosity showing in the set of her brows.

"Wallow in loneliness, likely," George chuckled. "No, just carry on with the shop. These two will be finding a place of their own soon," he hooked a thumb at Fred and Angelina, "so it'll be just me at the flat."

"But I'll visit. I'm not leaving for the other side of the world," Hermione laughed. "Besides, you hardly have no friends," she motioned to the group. "You'll be fine."

"And you can visit in Hogsmeade if McGonagall won't let you back in the castle," Oliver slipped in with a bark of laughter.

With that sobering thought the group started to disperse, saying their goodbyes. Katie and Oliver left first followed by Alicia and Lee, who gave Hermione a large friendly hug. Just the twins, Angelina and Hermione remained at the table.

"So I think we're going to have everything sorted out with a house by January; you guys will have the flat to yourself completely after that," Fred started easily.

"You know you don't have to hurry into something that isn't right, right?" Hermione implored Fred with her eyes.

"Well, you two will be married then and you don't need us sinning folk under your feet," Fred smirked and Angelina and George laughed.

"But really, it won't bother _me_. I'll be at Hogwarts for a considerable amount of time," Hermione pressed. "I just don't want you to take the first thing that becomes available to you and it not be what you want."

"Hermione," Angelina started, "we've found a place and we're closing on the offer; it's exactly what we want, so please don't worry." She smiled genuinely.

"Oh," Hermione voiced. "That was quick," she elaborated.

"Well, it's better not to leave these things. We were just looking by this place seemed right and so we just went for it. We agreed it would be better to move now while I can still see my feet than wait until later and maybe not find the right place after all. In which case we would be taking something we don't want, so really, we're following you're advice the best we can."

George nodded to her when she flicked her eyes to him.

"Well, congratulations! A house! Where is it?" Hermione inquired.

"It's near Ottery St. Catchpole. What did the muggle realtor say? 'A ten minute drive from town'? It's in the opposite direction of mum and dad's," Fred answered.

"I thought for sure you'd find a place far from your mum," Hermione scoffed.

"I actually really like Ottery," Fred laughed. "And Angelina likes the idea of a small town."

"I do, surprisingly," Angelina nodded. "But I'm getting tired, can we talk more about this another time? Sorry, Hermione, I'm just knackered -"

"Oh, no, no, you go home. Don't let my questions keep you," Hermione insisted as Fred and Angelina slid out of the booth and George chuckled.

"We'll see you two on Sunday at dinner I assume," Fred slapped George on the back and saluted Hermione.

"You'll see me tomorrow if you come to the back room of the shop," Hermione laughed and the two left after Angelina had hugged Hermione lightly around the shoulders.

"Tomorrow? Working on a Saturday?" George gasped, settling his arm back around her shoulders. "It's like you're a workaholic or something."

"No, I just thought I'd squeeze in another day of work so that I don't feel so bad about leaving in two weeks," Hermione shoved him lightly but settled comfortably back against him.

"No need to feel bad, love," George uttered with a slow blink. "Home?"

Hermione nodded lightly, trying to gauge if his slight change in demeanour meant what she thought it meant. She had slight flush high on her cheeks he raised a thumb to brush over it lightly.

"I'm not drunk," she laughed, assuring him the flush was not from intoxication.

"You'd have to be an extremely lightweight drinker to be drunk after one whole beer, Hermione," he chuckled and stood, offering a hand to her to pull herself up.

"I'm just warm," she persisted, avoiding his eyes as they made their way from the pub, George's hand securely on her lower back. When they emerged into the cold night, George took her hand and raised it to his lips; the sharp contrast of cold and warm, dry and moist sent a frisson down her back and he carried on as if he had no idea what he was doing to her. At least he hadn't put his hand on her thigh again, because they might not have made it through dinner if she had any hope of repeating the same consequences as before. The brief memory of straddling George's lap and the sweet friction of his hips rising to meet hers made her flush deepen. If he inquired, she might be able to blame it on the coldness of the night.

The two made their way slowly up the alley, their own shadows dancing before and behind them and back again with every lamp they passed on their way to the apparition point. George wrapped his arms around her and she reciprocated at his waist before he whipped them away to take her home.

"When do you think you'll be at the shop tomorrow, then?" George asked, slowly letting her pull herself from his arms with no apparent rush.

"Early. I was thinking before the store opened because I want to use the afternoon to move stuff to the cabin," Hermione mused, removing her jacket and hanging it from the coat rack by the door.

"I've already adjusted the wards on the flat. You can apparate in and then go downstairs whenever you want. I'll probably already be up, and Fred'll probably be with Angelina," George continued. "And I can help you move your stuff."

"Okay," Hermione smiled, grateful to have an excuse to spend time with him between now and Sunday dinner. "See you in the morning, then."

"Do I get a goodnight kiss?" he inquired while leaning a hip against her kitchen island, twinkle in his eyes.

Hermione stepped forward, holding his gaze. Her hands slowly reached out and slid over his shirt from the front around his ribs under his leather jacket and laced together low on his back. To his credit, he didn't waver or break her intense gaze; he sighed and she could have sworn she felt his stomach muscles twitch under her hands. She grinned and closed her eyes at the familiar feeling of his hands coming up to cradle her head and his head lowering down to her face. The welcome scent of him was just as she remembered from their first kiss; the leather, the shower, him, and now just the faintest aroma of lager which she tasted on his tongue a moment later. Surprisingly she liked it on him. Probably because he had only had two pints and wasn't off his gourd; she imagined she wouldn't like the smell or the taste if that was the case.

His lips plied at hers and his tongue pushed deeper into her mouth than before but still he was gentle and unhurried. When she unlaced her hands from his back and reached up to run her fingers through his hair just as she had done before, George broke with a breathy groan and tilted his head back. A shiver again made its way quickly down her spine and she very much wanted to feel the throb it produced again. Her lips pressed onto the skin of his throat and she trailed small kisses down to his clavicle which resulted in not only drawing a slightly louder groan from George, but in his hands finding their way to the gap of skin between her shirt and jeans and sliding in. His palms were slightly rough, rougher than Hermione had anticipated, but they drew a gasp from her when he ran them up her sides to cup them around her ribs. His thumbs were brushing so lightly against the underwire of her bra and yet her nerves were alight already. Belatedly she pondered if her heart might actually stop if he had been touching her instead of her undergarment.

"What a goodnight kiss," he whispered when he leaned his forehead against hers, fingers still teasing the flesh of her ribs. "I should go before..."

"Yeah," Hermione sighed, agreeing with both comments but not having the will to pull away. Instead she ran her hands over his front again, following the same path as before and clasping her hands together behind him, pulling him tight. He gave her shoulders a small squeeze back and raised a hand to brush some hair out of her face.

"I'll see you in the morning," he repeated the words she had said not a few minutes before and yet a lifetime ago. He gave her forehead one tiny kiss and gently pulled away from her. After throwing her a wink and disapparating, Hermione was left to her own devices until she fell asleep dreaming of George's embrace.

* * *

><p>The next morning found Hermione up and ready to go quite early and she puttered around packing a few more things before it approached a reasonable time for her to go into the shop. She spent the quiet of the morning replaying the moments from the night before that her mind would not let go of.<p>

_"I should go before..."_

_Before what, George Weasley? Before I let you ravage me in my kitchen? _

Hermione shook her head. What was the right thing to do here? To restrain themselves and wait? Wait how long? He had to feel the building tension between them; the only way he wouldn't was if the man was dead. But judging by his body's reaction to her last night, she was pretty sure he was very much alive. The same could be said for her.

Well. They were only 19 and 20, what could she really expect from them? Of course she was feeling the tension and the want and the aches and throbs of need when they were close or kissing. That was human nature.

The question was if they waited, how long would they last and what were they waiting for? And if they didn't wait, would that make it harder to be away from each other when it came time for her to leave for Hogwarts?

Hermione sighed. Why was this so complicated?

At a quarter past eight she got her bag together and apparated over to the main room of the twin's flat.

"Oh!" she exclaimed before slapping a hand to her eyes and spinning to face the opposite direction for good measure.

"Good morning," George drawled.

"Good morning," Hermione stammered back.

"Isn't it just?" George commented lightly.

Hermione's eyes remained shut but the image of George leaning against the counter in his kitchen with his ankles crossed, in nothing but boxers hanging low on his lean hips, seemed to be branded onto the back of her eyelids. Muscles; arm muscles, ab muscles, leg muscles. All defined but not overly so, merely speaking to an active lifestyle and a lifetime of playing Quidditch and running from the wrath of Filch or Mrs. Weasley.

The low throb she had come to associate with George Weasley and her body's default reaction to him cried out and she tried to quell it by clenching her thighs together discreetly.

"Are you going to put some clothes on?" she asked, shifting indelicately.

"In a minute," he chuckled and she could hear him raise a hand to run through his sleep-ruffled hair.

"I'll see you downstairs then," Hermione made her way to the front door and tried to slow her frenzied steps as she shut the door behind herself and descended into the shop. Her frantically beating heart thudded in her ears as she breezed around to the backroom and sank onto a familiar stool, dropping her bag to the floor at her feet.

_Ruffled ginger hair, solidly strong body, the smell of hot coffee._

Hermione sighed and let her head fall into her arms on the worktop. She was never going to last even if they decided to wait, and regardless of the consequences they would face when she left.

What was she talking about? She was a witch! There was apparition, floo travel, portkeys. Even with her at Hogwarts, they could spend time together. It would just mean she would have to make use of her time alone in a very effective and productive manner.

"You look like you're in the middle of _Hermione_-ing something out," George entered the backroom slowly and set a mug of coffee down in front of Hermione before moving to sit at 'his' workstation, sipping his own mug. "Any luck?"

"Not really," Hermione responded and mumbled a thank you before sipping her coffee. After a few beats of silence she stood and shrugged off her jacket and moved to hang her things from the peg by the door. "How do you feel about Fred and Angelina and everything?"

"What do you mean?" he regarded her openly as she moved about the room and set up a cauldron with supplies for the first potion she planned to brew.

"Well, things are happening so fast for them," she answered. "The law passed on September 1st and they're already engaged and getting married in February, pregnant and almost home owners. That's a lot to deal with."

"Well, how I feel doesn't really matter, does it?" he remarked lightly. "I mean, I'm happy for him because he's happy. Yes, it's fast but they've been going out for a long time. I'm not worried, if that's what you mean. They'd have gotten there eventually, it's just all happening quicker because of the law."

Hermione nodded slowly, soaking up the answer.

"Why? What are you worried about?" he asked slowly, discerning eye focused on her.

"I'm just worried that spending all this time together before I go to Hogwarts is going to make it harder to leave," she voiced timidly.

"Well, I'm not sure about you, but it was always going to be hard for me. You know how I've felt now, so I'm sure you managed to figure that out for yourself already. You think it'll make it harder for you?" he asked quietly, scratching his side.

"It wouldn't have been so difficult at the beginning of September but I'm starting to think it's going to be a lot harder than I anticipated it would be as time goes on," Hermione answered truthfully.

George just smiled and dropped his gaze to his hands for a moment before responding.

"Well, honestly, outside of needing to be at work in the daytime most days, I can come visit you anytime you like. And likewise for you; we haven't really talked about it but since Fred is leaving, it'll be pretty empty. I don't know how often you'd be able to bring your work home with you, but you can always come stay at the flat with me. I'm horrible when I'm left alone," he laughed.

"Oh, I'm sure it's not that bad being alone," Hermione laughed.

"Not for me," he stressed with a smile. "I've spent my whole life with a house full of siblings or a tower full of Gryffindors, and when I did manage to find myself alone I wasn't really alone; I had Fred. We spend a lot of time together. But from now on, it'll be less and less. And that's okay, we're grown ups and we can function without the other and we're both going to have more separate lives. It's just a big change. I don't really _like _being alone. So please consider the flat your home too." He smiled at her from his workstation and she considered his offer.

Did he think by then they would be comfortable enough around one another to live together for part of the time? Would she get her own space, her own room with her own bed or... Did he think...

Hermione sighed. It was useless pondering over the future for now. She would just have to wait and see what the passing of time would bring for them. This was sort of an unprecedented situation, at least since the last time a Marriage Law had been implemented which was roughly 260 years ago.

The two of them spent some time setting up for some work and went about their separate tasks unhindered by the other. Hermione guiltily had thought that George would be a pain to work in the same room with but he really wasn't. Perhaps she had had that misconception because when the twins were together they had a habit of being loud but since Hermione had been spending much more time with George instead of both of them, she had noticed that he seemed to be the much calmer twin. Fred liked to be the centre of attention whether he was with George or not; George reveled in the attention and praise just as much as Fred did, but also seemed to appreciate down time where he didn't have to be 'on'. Perhaps Fred was more like George behind closed doors, when it was just him or Angelina, you never knew. However, Hermione counted herself lucky that George was obviously the mellower of the two; she was much more suited to a life with George than one with Fred, initially because of the difference in their temperaments but had already admitted that she was developing feelings for George. Contemplating the differences between the two was futile at this point.

Hermione was just simmering and stirring her finished cauldron full of Calamity Lotion after the spending the majority of an hour in comfortable silence with George when she decided it might be time to talk to him about the thoughts she had had about raising children. Was he going to ask her to stay home with them like his mother had done?

"George, can I ask you something?" she spoke up, her voice drawing his attention gently away from his own cauldron of simmering Fever Fudge.

"Anything," he glanced down momentarily to stir the concoction counterclockwise the required number of times.

"I was just thinking the other day, with Angelina and the baby and everything - what will we do when we're getting ready to have one?" Hermione posed the general question.

"Well," he started, setting down his wooden spoon and adjusting the flame beneath the cauldron, "I suppose by then you'll be done this book and we'll hopefully have a place together, even if that's still the flat upstairs."

"But what would we do about work? Do you want me to stay home with them?" Hermione asked delicately and George laughed.

"I never assumed you would want to, to be honest. I thought that if you were still doing your book thing, we could work around it and leave you enough time to work on it while I still worked in the shop. We would just have to find a balance I suppose. That is part of the reason we asked Ron to come on. That way when any one of us needs to work less it's not an issue."

"That was a rather smart decision, I have to say. What made you think of it?" she asked.

"Fred actually brought it up and I realized he was right; we needed a solution for when we couldn't put as many hours in down here," George answered, stirring clockwise three turns before returning the wooden spoon to the table top and putting the flame out. "Considering the law, that was bound to happen in short order. And as you said, better to have a plan in place now, _smartypants_."

Hermione laughed.

"So you don't mind me continuing with writing, then?"

"Of course not. You'd probably go mad and what good would that do?" George laughed as well. "But this isn't something we really need to talk too seriously about for now. Maybe things will be different when we get to that point, you never know."

Hermione nodded in understanding and they both went back to their brews. Fred and Verity eventually popped their heads in to say hello and open the shop while George and Hermione churned out stock for the floor. Hermione carried on with more WonderWitch products and George moved on to making a pile of fireworks.

Eventually they both grew weary and hungry and agreed to pack it in for the day. It was early afternoon and they stopped for a bite to eat at a place near Hermione's apartment before they trekked up the stairs and Hermione used her key to get in.

Crookshanks greeted George enthusiastically again and Hermione shook her head. He had obviously made up his mind he liked George, which was good for everyone involved. He could be a pain in the behind about people or things he didn't like.

"So you'll be the first to see my cabin," Hermione commented as she shrunk the last few things left; her bed frame, box spring, mattress, Titania's cage, Crookshanks' bed, the coat rack, and all of the things that were left laying around on the kitchen island. The kneazle observed her actions and cast a glance around the now empty apartment and fixed her with a look that meant he wanted an explanation. Hermione held open his carrier and he reluctantly got in and settled himself, glaring at her for good measure.

"I'm honoured," George grinned and bent to stack two boxes and pick them both up. "How about you take me there so I can apparate myself and I'll come get the rest of this stuff and you can start... whatever it is you do when you go to your cabin?"

Hermione picked up Crookshanks and threaded her arm through his as he held the stacked boxes and she waited for his nod of readiness before concentrating on taking all three of them and her possessions to the clearing behind her cabin.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Here we go! A bit later than usual but forgive me; my house flooded when there was a crazy rainstorm last week so my place is a jumbled mess and we're replacing all the flooring. I don't do well with disorganization, hahaha. **

**Let me know what you think of the slight pace change. It's picking up and I think it's realistic but I'd love your opinions. November, December and January are going to be a little more crazy for George and Hermione and it starts building now!**

**Some songs, but not for this chapter, more like overall:**

**Give in to Me - Leighton Meester and Garrett Hedlund - This is sort of the overall feeling I'm aiming for. Slow, realistic, romantic (in its own way). **

**Last Leaf - OK Go - I imagine this is how George felt about waiting on the sidelines for Hermione, both while they were at Hogwarts and after. (P.S. - OK Go just announced more tour dates for the spring and you can bet **_**this **_**girl has tickets already!)**

**Why Can't I - Liz Phair - Hermione when she's obsessing over the Daydream Charms and the kiss that hadn't happened yet and couldn't stop thinking about George. She still can't but it's a bit different now.**

**As always leave me a review, you lovely people!**

**Until next time.**

**Cheers!**


	19. Chapter 19

Momentarily they appeared there at the precise spot she had been focusing on and she led George up the back walkway and pulled her key from her pocket.

"Wow. It's quiet here," George said in a hushed voice. The sound of the light breeze ruffled through the dry leaves that lay in large piles banked against the cabin and in the outcropping of bare saplings and younger trees nearby.

"Yeah," Hermione laughed a little. "I like it," she kicked her way through a pile of brown and orange, crunching in the most satisfying manner under her shoes.

He followed her through the doorway inside and Hermione walked across to the large kitchen table, indicating he could put the boxes down there. George's head swivelled around taking in the empty fire grate with the coffee table, squishy couch and chairs around it, the stairs on the left with the bookcases Hermione had mentioned underneath, the desk and work area under the loft and the tiny kitchen on the front wall with the large window overlooking a cold and still lake.

"It's nice," George finished and met her eyes again. "Just what you would need and nothing more. Is this what it looked like when your parents owned it?"

"Mostly. I replaced the couch because I hated the old one they had here; it was _not _comfy to read on. Everything else is just small things, like some different pictures and a new throw. The muggle who owned it for a few years didn't change much; they sold it with everything in it, furniture included. He only replaced the water heater and I got a new mattress for the loft. That's it," Hermione answered while letting Crookshanks out of his carrier. The half-kneazle shook himself and twitched his ears after hopping out onto the table and down to the floorboards. He moved to stand directly in front of the front door and Hermione took the hint with a sigh. "Don't go far, you," she muttered to his back as he trotted out when she cracked it for him.

"Alright, I'll go back then. Everything's in those boxes against the wall?" George asked, stepping back towards the back door again.

"Yes, but really, you don't have to," Hermione started after him before he held up his hand so shush her gently.

"Really, I know, but I will anyway. Just let me. I'll be back in a jiffy," he grinned and exited quickly. Hermione heard his shoes on the back trail before the silence after his dissapparition. Casting a glance out the kitchen window after Crookshanks, she saw his small orange body perched off to the side of the top step, tail swishing back and forth in silence as he surveyed his new surroundings.

Hermione trudged outside and around the side of the house to fetch some wood from her slowly dwindling pile stacked against the long side of the cabin.

George was the first person she had ever brought out here to her parents old cabin. She tried not to think like it was a violation of her memories of the three of them here; it wasn't really. It was her cabin, he was her fiancé. He wouldn't do anything stupid. Surely he realized the importance not only of her bringing him here but also of the place itself. To her, this was what remained of her life with her parents. Since they were still in Australia with no definite date and time for coming back to her, this was all she had. This place with these things and these pictures and these memories. It was not a bad thing to bring him here and make new ones, but the old ones must remain precious and whole, for if she lost them or let them slip away piece by piece, _who _would treasure them? Not them, not yet. Maybe one day they would have them back but for now she was the sole survivor of Granger household.

Tears rimmed her waterline and she took a steadying breath. In times like these, when she was temporarily blinded by the thought of being alone in the world, she had to remind herself that even though the Weasleys were not her blood, they were her family, as was Harry. She was not alone. She hadn't been alone on the run from Voldemort, and she wasn't alone now.

"These three are the last ones," George came back through the back door and glanced at her crouched form in front of the fireplace as she stacked the wood up and set it alight. He set down the boxes beside the others and his eyebrow furrowed at her relative silence. "Hermione, are you alright?"

"Yes," she poked the logs once more and stood, turning to find him regarding her shrewdly.

"Really? You don't look it," he pressed.

"It's nothing," Hermione waved a hand and blinked a few more times to clear her eyes of any tears. "I'm just being a bit silly."

"Are you sure you want me here?" George leaned casually against the wall between the door to the shower and the fireplace surveying Hermione's facial expressions.

"Yes, of course. Thank you for helping me move my stuff, you're been great," Hermione answered, moving round him to light the pilot and switch on the water heater for later.

"What's that for?" George inquired somewhat confusedly.

"It heats water for the kitchen and for the shower outside," she answered, standing on tiptoe to raise the lid and fill it from her wand slowly.

"You shower _outside_? How naughty," George winked, and reverted to his serious tone. "Though really, if you want me to go, that's okay."

"No, it's fine. I was just thinking about my parents and sometimes..."

"I understand. You don't need to explain," he approached her and rubbed her upper arms a few times. She felt the gentle warmth and smiled. "I won't let you lose them. Okay?"

Hermione nodded and felt her eyes well up again before he tugged her close and she laid her head on his chest. For a few minutes he held her loosely as not to smother her and the melancholy faded out until it was gone. It was curious that just his presence was enough to derail the sometimes consuming thoughts she had of her parents. With a deep breath she withdrew and gave him a small smile before stepping back fully.

"Shall I help you unpack?" George asked, shrugging off his leather jacket to hang on a peg just inside the front door, and casting a glance out at the unmoving kneazle.

"Sure, that would be nice. There's a wireless in there somewhere," Hermione pointed vaguely to one of the boxes over her shoulder as she pulled out a small pot to boil water. "Tea?"

"Yes, please," George whipped out his wand and summoned the radio; it popped straight up out of one of the boxes and he reached out to catch it, switching it on and adjusting the dial. He quickly spun it away from a station playing The Rhythmic Runes and onto one that was airing the widely appreciated musical stylings of The Weird Sisters. "I think you like these guys," he grinned and moved to set the wireless down on the mantle over the crackling fire.

"I do," Hermione laughed and bobbed her head to the familiar tune while pouring steaming water into two large mugs with teabags in she had pulled from the long shelf over the window. Hermione pulled the sugar bowl out from one of the cupboards and doctored their brews after pulling out the teabags. She smiled up at George as she handed him the piping hot mug.

"Thanks, love," he muttered, accepting it graciously. "What can I do?"

"Erm..." Hermione set down her own mug after a sip and opened the boxes on the table. "The kitchen stuff? Doesn't much matter where it goes as long as it all fits. _Finite_ is all you need to unshrink it."

"Perfect," George set the kitchen box on the floor by the counter and shuffled a chair over while Hermione grabbed the box of books and a chair of her own. She moved off to the bookcases under the stairs and cast a light scourgify to get rid of the dust. Setting her mug down on one of the shelves, she sat and opened the box at her feet. As they did in the backroom of the shop, they worked in quiet with the music low in the background. She worked like this with few people, including Harry, Ron and Ginny. But with Harry and Ron, if they were silent like this it usually meant they were otherwise occupied playing chess or distracting each other from doing their homework and trying not to attract her attention. With Ginny, it was the quiet of best friends who did not need to fill the silence with pointless chatter at every opportunity. With George, however, she knew it was not like with Harry and Ron because they were unaware of her movement; in contrast, George raised his head from his task when he felt her eyes on his back. He seemed conscious of her movements and her sighs and the creak of the chair under her when she leaned forward with a stack of resized books.

Hermione caught a secret smile on George's mouth as he looked back down at his task and carried on with resizing her pots and pans and stacking them neatly under the sink and she felt the prickle of a flush high on her cheekbones. Hermione moved along the bookcase, filling as she went and emptying the rest of her book collection onto the shelves. She tossed the empty box onto the couch and grabbed the one with all her work things. She set up her lamp on the desk by the back door under the loft and to the left of the bookcases she had just been filling. Out came the inkwells, quills and sheets of parchment, all stored in the lap drawer of the L-shaped built in desk. Down in the side drawers she stacked rolls of parchment, her contract for the book job, her muggle study things like ballpoint pens and post-its and highlighters and she left the wedding mess stacked on the worktop. She stood to add that box to the couch as well she found George sitting quietly with his mug of tea in his hands, just watching her casually.

"What?" she asked, caught off guard.

"Nothing," he responded and took another sip of tea soundly, eyes twinkling. "So what sort of protection have you put on the place?"

"A mild anti-muggle charm to keep the curious ones away, a silencing charm so no one hears me apparate in and out, I reinforced the roof when I was here last..." Hermione trailed off. "Nothing too hefty, just enough to keep it quiet and make sure no one sees me doing any magic by accident."

"Good idea. Wandering muggles, I tell you," George shook his head sarcastically and drained the last of the tea in his mug.

"Want me to show you around a bit? Go for a walk around the lake?" Hermione asked, feeling the need to stretch her legs. She could put clothes away later; she banished the box up the stairs.

"Sure," George sprung up and moved to grab his jacket as she did the same. They trampled out the front door, Crookshanks now curled up where he had been sitting. He glared at them when they disturbed his peace and quiet in passing before flicking his ears and setting his head down again.

"The _outdoor_ shower is just round the corner there," Hermione pointed and George went to investigate, following the stepping stones around to the side of the house and disappearing.

Hermione continued with slow steps out toward the lake, waiting for him to reappear from his bout of curiosity. The lake was quiet and still, with ripples off on the far side and Hermione squinted to try and see what was making them. The sun was playing hide and seek with the clouds and was out in a patch of clear blue sky, making it hard for Hermione to see past the brightness.

George came back around the cabin with a loud over-enthusiastic rustling of the leaves and they set off around the lake following the trail Hermione had taken on the start of her big hike a few weeks back. They followed along the edge of the body of water, quiet and thoughtful. Hermione swung her hands, clutching her sweater sleeve tightly around her fisted fingers, wishing she had thought to wear her mittens.

George saw and reached over to tempt her hand open and enclose it in his large warm one.

"You're always so _warm_," she stressed in mild wonderment.

"Good thing for you since you're always so _cold_," George laughed in return. He tucked her hand into his jacket pocket and clasped his own around it snuggly. "So about that shower - you actually get naked and use that thing in the middle of winter? Because that sounds like muggles are a lot crazier than I thought they were," he teased.

"Well, yes, that's the only way," Hermione laughed. "Obviously you and I can keep it heated with magic -"

"_'You and I'_? Granger, I don't know what sort of ideas you're having but I can assure you there will be no -"

"George!" Hermione gasped and laughed at the same time, the notion of them sharing the shower at any point sparking a familiar ache. "You know that's not what I meant."

George laughed and nodded and they continued on around the small circle of water.

The bare brambles near the lake's edge tangled and snarled together thickly and the majority of the trees close by had shed their leaves since Hermione had been here last. Piles and piles of dry crunchy leaves had been blown up around the roots and over the path they trod. They rounded back to the cabin a short time later.

"Nothing's gathered on the roof. That would be your doing I suppose," George observed and Hermione nodded.

"Mhm. Basic Impervius. Also keeps the rain from finding a way in, as well," she answered. As they approached the cabin again, Hermione pulled her hand from George's toasty pocket and motioned loosely. The leaves around the front part of the building blew gently off to the side back into the trees where they had once been and George followed, helping. Hermione preemptively cleaned out the shower so that she would find no surprises later and carried on swirling leaves away from the house with increasingly larger gusts of wind and hand flourishes.

"Oi!" George's voice startled her and she looked around to the back entrance. She burst out laughing when she saw that she had inadvertently blown a large gust right at George. His hair was standing at odd angles and there were leaves floating down around him from their lofty ascent.

"Sorry!" Hermione placed a hand on her side, laughing ever harder.

"You will be!" he retorted, playfully menacing. He made a sudden lunge for her and with surprisingly quick reflexes she turned tail, still laughing and stumbling over tree roots as she went.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Argh, no! _George_!" she shouted, laughter bubbling up through her pleading. Her feet thumped through the trees and she wove back and forth, ducking over a low branch as he gusted cold wind at her, chasing her nimbly.

"Revenge," he called from behind her, "is almost as sweet as you!"

"What a load of bollocks!" she called over her shoulder at his cheesy line with a large grin. She saw him gaining on her and she veered through the trees to her right, beginning to loop back to the cabin. He was spelling a cloud of leaves after her above her head, zooming with her every zig and zag. If she was fast enough she could maybe -

"When I catch you -" he started.

"Don't worry, you won't!" her laughter heaving in her chest as she raced back around to the back door and the leaves began to tickle the top of her head. "George, _no_!"

She burst in the back door as he dumped the ball on her and leaves swirled in after her, filling the room and blowing around her legs and feet, and getting caught in her wild hair. She was running with her eyes half-closed against the assault and her laughter and she could hear George's large feet pounding in the back door after her. She jumped for the stairs and bounded them two at a time, breath puffing out and heart pounding. She knew she was screaming nonsensical things trying to get him to stop chasing her but he was relentless in his persual, drawing ever closer, stumbling up after her with a great clattering.

When she finally reached the top of the stairs, she managed two more steps before he tackled her and they fell in a jumble of limbs and leaves onto the neatly made bed.

_"Oomph!"_ the air was knocked from Hermione's lungs as George landed on her and she gasped it back in, both for oxygen and at the feel of his weight on her, sudden and hard. They were both still rasping in air in large lungfuls, hair tangled with leaves and bits of nature and George's cheeks were flushed from exertion as were hers. He was still grinning like a fool and laughing softly.

"Caught you," he breathed, face inches from hers. He moved slightly, just enough to lift the weight of him off her chest so that she could breath easier.

"I see that," she answered, almost inaudibly.

He gazed down at her, eyes brushing over her face, her cheekbones, drifting over her lashes and the tip of her nose.

"Marry me," he uttered, and it sounded as though it had fought its way out from the very depths of him, guttural and urgent and brutally sincere and her breath came to a full stop at the look in his eyes.

"I already am," she tittered, nervousness seeping into her periphery.

"I mean for real," he continued. "Not just because of all this or because you have to unless you want to be handed over to a Death Eater."

"Then why?" she was at a loss for words, though her brain was racing and filling in the gaps she already knew and assessing the ones she was still drawing a blank on.

"Because I will treasure you for the _rest _of my life if you do."

The grit in his voice spoke to the truthfulness with which he conveyed the words and Hermione was again stunned into silence, able only to stare up at him with wide brown eyes. His gaze refused to waver and her body was heating quickly under his close scrutiny. Behind the intensity she was witnessing, she realized there must be an immense vulnerability; you don't speak like he just had and have walls standing. And there it was, behind the glimmering, behind the joking, the twinkling and laughing. Behind the dark smolder that was creeping in around the edges, there it was.

She could not betray that for all the galleons in Gringotts.

"Yes," she replied with a whisper and his eyelids slid half-closed for a moment in relief, happiness, pleasure, she didn't know for sure, perhaps all. When they opened again, he moved his elbow up to her shoulder to support his weight as he lowered his top half even closer to hers.

She watched, breathless, as his eyelashes lowered once more and brushed against his cheek, and then his lips were gloriously on hers again, demanding softly for her attention and her honesty. His fierce need snapped her out of her stunned and thoughtful docileness and with a rawness she hadn't known herself to possess, she returned his fervor. Momentarily he had her opening her mouth for him and it felt as though he was devouring her.

They were a tangle of limbs, moving, squeezing, holding, cradling and Hermione found herself in the middle of the bed and fumbling to tear George's jacket zipper down while not committing enough concentration to ever get it done by herself. When he registered what she was doing he pulled away just enough for her to reach her goal and push it from his shoulders, allowing him to shrug it off completely and drop it carelessly over the side of the bed. When he settled in the valley between her legs and covered her again wit his body, she savoured the feeling ripping through her from the point where their hips connected. It was all-consuming and heady; Hermione's back arched off the bedspread and her throat closed before the groan managed to slip out.

All at once the want from the Daydream Charms and her regular nighttime dreams, the time when he had taken a charm in front of her, all the kisses they had shared both sweet and simmering, all came back to her and raced through her veins alongside everything that was already there.

While her back was still arched, George had returned the favour and unzipped her as well and he pulled her up and tugged her own jacket from her arms. Heatedly, she allowed him and collapsed back down when he let her go, pulling him down with her. He was on her again, left hand cradling her head and right arm sliding under her to hold her waist as he was wont to do.

If he had not been ravaging her before, he was now, and Hermione reciprocated by wrapping her legs high around his hips and running her hands down his back. She revelled in the feel of his strong body under her palms and continued farther down. When she reached the curve of his arse, she clutched him tighter and he groaned into her neck, briefly ceasing the openmouthed kisses he had been leaving with a scorching wake.

His palm slid from up from her hip, dragging her shirt hem up with it, and he made contact with the skin of her lower stomach. The callouses on his fingers scratched deliciously against her nerves and she jumped in excitement under his ministrations. The hand continued up and settled where he had touched the other day, wrapped around her ribs and making her arch with want.

_"Ungh," _was the most eloquent she could be in the moment and George took that as appropriate acquiescence, balancing on his knees and tugging the shirt right off. Hermione felt the sudden coolness on her skin and heard leaves in her hair scratch on the fabric as she helped tug it over her head, but she could care less as he fell back against her once more with a sigh.

The skin on skin contact was potent and Hermione drug George's lips back to hers for a searing kiss. Leaning on his elbow over her, he brushed his fingers again up around her belly button and higher, ghosting over the swells of flesh peeking out from under her bra. With a pause from him and a nod from her, he tugged the cup down softly. When his palm settled and caressed her breast, her eyes rolled back in her head.

_"George,"_ she gasped when her lungs started working again, rolling her hips unashamedly against his as he curled over her. He was hard against her and a frisson shivered over her as he ducked his head. Before she managed to clamp her lips together he had brushed over her nipple with his thumb and then taken the erect bud in his hot mouth. Mouth still hanging open after she had moaned his name, an uninhibited squeal poured out, morphing into a groan as he continued to suck and lave at her chest.

"Yes? Did you have any comments?" he moaned after releasing her with a soft _pop_. The coldness she felt after he let his hold go puckered her nipple tightly sending goosebumps up her arms and legs immediately.

"More," she uttered and he complied, switching to the untouched breast with ease. Tugging that side down, he squeezed lightly again, eliciting another lightheaded moan from Hermione, waiting for the sweet sound of her cry when he tweaked that new nipple a little harder than the last.

Her vision was fuzzy, everything was blurred except for him and she felt sure at this point that he must be able to feel her through her jeans. The friction of his hips rocking against her in a steady rhythm made her sure she would be able to reach out and grab her release tightly in her hand, but George began to slow. His ragged breathing shivered over her exposed flesh and she was gasping air into her lungs, her heart sending her blood rushing and burning through too much oxygen.

"We should stop," he sighed, resting his forehead against her shoulder, steadying himself and covering her quickly cooling flesh with his chest, both for warmth and for her modesty now that her mind was starting to come back to her slowly.

An ache was throbbing painfully at the apex of her thighs where he was resting, loudly, demanding attention and calling for his body. But she had to agree. All at once was not necessary, however much she felt like it would be worth the rush in the moment.

He stretched above her and dragged her shirt back towards them, pressing it into her hand lightly.

"Yes, okay," she sighed, knowing he was making a very hard decision, the right one. She slipped her arms in and then pulled it over her head and down her torso as he sat up for her to do so. When she was fully clothed again, he held her tightly and placed one more searing kiss on her swollen lips before pulling away and sitting up.

"Just know that I don't want to stop, I'm sure you could tell," he chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair and she felt a swell of pride at the remembrance of the feel of him against her inner thigh and the flush he displayed on his face as he sat there on the edge of the bed.

"I know," she sighed happily, her body still humming tightly.

"I'm going to go before I change my mind," he continued, rubbing her leg that lay still on the bedspread. "I should do that now."

"Okay," she laughed, heat still burning in her cheeks and chest and the rest of her as he turned to lean down and kiss her once more before scooping his jacket from the floor and slinging the leather around himself to slide in smoothly.

"I'll see you tomorrow, with clothes on, alright?" he grinned and winked at her before thumping down the stairs and out of sight, door slamming shut behind him.

Even as she heard him disapparate, her body longed for his to be back with her, preferably with less clothing between them and she raised a hand to pick a little crunchy leaf out of her hair. She let it go and watched it float down and settle beside her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Happy Friday!**

**A whole chapter all about them, yes? **

**Leave a review, lovelies. Did we like this?**

**Until next time.**

**Cheers!**


	20. Chapter 20

Hermione sat on her porch in the early morning sunlight wrapped tightly in multiple layers of blankets while her breath puffed out in misty clouds around her. She had been up since the crack of dawn, the events of yesterday afternoon rattling around in her mind. They refused to stop or slow for a moment.

After George had left, she had felt a bit aimless. They had tumbled into bed, and though they did not sleep together, there had been some nakedness on her part, a lot of noises from both of them, and some semi-restrained passion. All of it was fodder for imminent future meetings doused in awkwardness and unsureness between the two.

Just at the thought of her having to talk in front of him tonight made her brain stutter. Her cheeks coloured at the flashes of memory that played across her mind in a maddening loop.

To distract herself last night she had returned to her old apartment and cleaned it from top to bottom, removed all the charms and spells she had placed on the space since moving in, and dropped her keys into an envelope which she then delivered to the building manager's drop box. Because that took almost no time at all, Hermione had resorted to unpacking and stowing all her clothes and pictures and knickknacks that her and George had not gotten to the afternoon before. Crookshanks had spent most of the night on the porch and Hermione had taken his bed out for him to lay on when the temperature dropped. The kneazle seemed just as happy about living in the middle of nowhere as he had about the apartment.

Again, the vision of the top of George's head fought its way to the top of her mind and she sighed as the ghost of the sensations he had caused yesterday fluttered over her skin again. Without even thinking, she had let him strip her shirt and all but dispose of her bra. In the moment, she had completely gotten out of her own way to let it happen; that didn't often happen. Normally, if she felt any hesitation or concern, her brain would engage to the best of its ability and try to work it out, regardless of the activity she was engaged in. Hardly had she ever been one to just go with what her instincts told her, aside from when her or her friend's lives were in danger.

A part of her sincerely hoped that it would happen again soon, and yet the other part of her resisted the very thought and enjoyment of it. Once they reached the point of no return, everything would change. And though Hermione felt certain she would enjoy sex with George, if any of their previous encounters were _any _indication, there was always the thought at the back of her mind that perhaps they were hurrying things.

Again, she reminded herself of their ages.

Statistically speaking, around 70 percent of young adults her own age were having sex already. Rather ironically, Hermione counted themselves rather apart from the norm, considering they had such a close call last night.

It was nothing to be ashamed of either way, having or not having.

Most teenagers had woe-is-me feelings over being seemingly the only one in their year not getting any, and Hermione was no different. She had really started wanting Ron to notice her and stop being such a dunce around about the time of fourth year and it had progressed from there. Like most human beings, there were times her protective bookworm coating cracked and revealed just another person craving human contact, affection, and love.

If Hermione had thought it was hard back _then_...

Well, things were much more difficult now.

In the end, she supposed she just needed to be less apprehensive about change.

Plus, George seemed to be proving himself worthy of her trust more and more as time went on. He obviously cared for her; she vividly recalled the look in his eyes as he had asked her outright to marry him, as if it was necessary to his survival. Hermione had the niggling feeling that there may be more to that than she had originally suspected.

On the flip side, her feelings towards him had changed drastically in the last seven weeks, largely in the last three or four. Things between them had come a long way...

_Leaves, screaming, falling, moaning, arching._

They had changed a lot.

Much later, Hermione returned inside and puttered around, moving things, unpacking things, packing other things and generally reorganizing the cabin a bit to be more functional for her. She placed all her still-shrunken furniture in the storage room to the right of the back door and set about arranging the new pictures on the mantle. Before she knew it she was dressing to leave for the Burrow for dinner.

Hermione arrived to find Ginny camped out on the back steps, bundled against the cold and staring intently at the spot Hermione would appear.

"_You_ have some talking to do," she pointed at her as Hermione approached, falter in her steps.

"I do?" Hermione bounced back, not liking the sound of this.

"Yes. Mucho explain-o. Why is my brother so damn _happy_? I have the _overwhelming_ suspicion it has to do with you," Ginny bored into her with her gaze and Hermione started to internally panic.

"Not me, surely," she dodged, climbing the steps Ginny was sitting on and her redhead friend hopped up and followed her into the house, close at her back.

"You're lyyyy-ing," she said in a hushed singsong voice but dropped the inquisition as they rounded the corner and met up with the rest of the Sunday guests.

Try as she may, her eyes found George's first and they both quickly regarded the other before their eyes flicked away.

Oh, joy.

This was going to be a piece of cake.

Hermione spent the next hours balancing Ginny's intent glances between the two of them and the necessity of not attracting any more attention to their behaviour. She succeeded; George had had many years experience in deception under his mother's watchful eye and the only other person that was watching the two of them interact was Fred, with an infuriatingly knowing smile.

When the time came for tea and dessert and everyone had made the move to the sitting room, Hermione used the excuse of helping Mrs. Weasley dole out helpings of crumble and ice cream to get out from under the surveillance she and George were under, if just for a moment. Luck would have it that when she went to join the others after a few minutes of calming and centring thoughts, the others had taken every seat but the one beside George on the couch.

To her disgruntlement, Ginny was in the seat next to the empty space with a devilish smirk on her face.

George, none the wiser, saw her enter the living room and patted the cushion next to himself. With a tiny sigh, Hermione braced herself for maturity; certainly this was not as big a deal as her brain was making it out to be. George had been nothing but a gentleman in the whole time she had known him, so what gave her the right to assume he would make things difficult for her now that he had seen some skin of hers he had never been privy to before?

She took a deep breath and settled in the divot beside him, angling her body slightly to face Ginny. When George met her eyes as she shifted around to get comfortable, he gave her an easy smile and carried on with the conversation he was having with Percy over the merits of somesuch Ministry referendum to with the regulation of controlled substances in and out of the country. Hermione settled against his warm side and in return he ate with his left hand, bowl balanced on his thigh, and laid his right arm over her shoulder with his fingers brushing her arm. Ginny watched them, void of any emotion after letting her smirk fall away; Hermione recognized this look as the shrewd fact gathering face of her best friend. Immediately she knew that she would not be leaving the Burrow before Ginny had extracted the information she desired from her. The challenge, of course, was to give her enough for her to be satisfied without giving the entire thing away; Hermione maintained that what happened between her and George would stay as private as she could keep it, Ginny be damned.

"So I have an appointment to go back to the florist this week, want to come with?" Hermione asked, trying her best to sound nonchalant. Bringing up the subject of her wedding may be the only way out of certain entrapment.

"Yes!" Ginny responded with enthusiasm, eyes taking on a tell-tale glint. "Between you and George, and Angelina and Fred, I'm going to be rolling in wedding preparations!" she continued, referencing the announcement that the expecting had couple had made over dinner about their decided date and also their new house.

"Is there anything else I should do this week?" Hermione tempted her friend.

"Hogwarts?"

"Check," Hermione nodded.

"Which means, place and food, check," Ginny reasoned. "And you've got the flowers down. That leaves invitations and attire, really. You should think about decorations, too. Make a list; you like lists," the redhead grinned.

"Alright. Will you help me with flowers and invitations this week then?" Hermione asked.

"Of course. What day is your appointment? If we do it all in one day, that'll be good for me so that I can have all the other days to slave over my homework," Ginny grumbled the last part.

"Ginevra Weasley, you stop your moaning this instant. You _chose_ to challenge your seventh year and you _will_ do the work," Molly's voice drifted across the living room, the majority of people continuing their conversations despite the tone in the matriarch's order.

"Yes, mum," Ginny grimaced and rolled her eyes a moment later. "Doesn't mean I can't complain every once in a while," she laughed.

"Yes, but it'll all be worth it, I promise. You'll be so much happier once it's all done, I swear," Hermione patted her friend's knee consolingly.

"Oh hey, also, I've been meaning to ask you," Ginny leaned in close, "Halloween is coming up, and I was thinking of doing something for Harry, you know, for his parents. Not really sad or anything, I just thought it'd be nice for him to do something to keep him positive on the day, you know."

"Yes, of course, that's an idea. Do you have anything yet?" Hermione asked lowly.

The girls put their heads together and brainstormed things they could do for Harry on the anniversary of his parents' deaths that would make him neither sad nor uncomfortable. Being that Harry could be rather emotional at times, this was quite a task.

* * *

><p>Hermione hurried down Diagon Alley quickly, the cobblestone street nearly empty at the early hour. She had thought to get a long day in in the shop and had risen early, the forest around the cabin still silent and cold when she had left. She was bundled in her wool coat and mittens and had stopped for some hot tea to go by the time she made it into the shop and the warmth it had to offer.<p>

The shop remained quiet and empty aside from her and the low sounds of the wireless she had switched on for background noise.

"Morning, love," George shuffled into the room a bit after her.

"Morning," Hermione smiled, nerves sufficiently eased by their uncomplicated contact the night before.

"Erm, I just wanted to say..." he started, unsure, "That I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable, since, well - I mean, you shouldn't feel weird just because we -"

"Oh!" Hermione had not been expecting him to take on the issue head first, first thing on a Monday morning. "Uhm, well I was little bit - nervous - that it would be weird, but -"

"I'm sorry if I made you feel that way -"

"No, it was my fault, you only helped, I just - we can't be like this after every time we do something, George. We'll just have to grit our teeth and bear it."

"'_Grit our teeth and bear it'?_ I don't know about you, but I _enjoyed_ it. So it's not really a challenge to bear it. What I'm trying to say is that you don't have to be embarrassed about anything. I'm not going to go tell my whole family I was lucky enough to see you shirtless," he laughed nervously, sitting down in his favourite spot diagonal to her.

"Well, I - I enjoyed it too, but I suppose you already knew that," she flushed scarlet in a heartbeat. "But... Okay. I will try not to be..."

"Uptight?"

"Yes, _uptight_ about it. I suppose that's not too much for you to ask of me," Hermione dropped her gaze, breathing a sigh of relief. He had assured her of exactly what she needed, somehow.

The two of them worked in fairly easy silence after that and eventually the shop opened for business and a few customers could be heard shopping the merchandise outside the door.

"Ginny says we should start thinking about attire," Hermione voiced.

"What, like... suits? Or... whatever people wear to weddings?" George raised her eyes from his desk and quirked his mouth.

"Yes," Hermione laughed. "Does the thought of a suit scare you?"

"No," George scoffed. "You've seen me when I dress all nicely. I'm a bloody catch, Granger. A suit, scare _me_. Ha."

"So you'll wear one?" Hermione grinned.

"I'll do it the favour, yes," he winked and she shook her head. "Does that mean you'll be looking for a - a dress?"

"I suppose. The look that Ginny got in her eyes when she realised she'd have to take me shopping and get to use me as a human-sized dress-up doll was chilling to say the least," Hermione mumbled as she gazed into her cauldron, noting the consistency and rate of bubbling and stirred it counter clockwise four times. When she raised her eyes back up to meet George's, she stilled.

"This is happening," he stated simply.

"Yes, I should say it is," Hermione quirked an eyebrow slightly and George smiled slowly before gazing down at the ledger he was scratching away in.

"Doesn't this all seem crazy to you?" he asked lightly.

"Most of the time," Hermione nodded, weary. "But... we've been pretty reasonable about all of this, don't you think? We won't make a bad pair."

"You think so?" his eyebrows shot up into his ginger hair.

"You don't?" Hermione countered.

"I never said that. I'm just surprised you think we wouldn't be bad together, that's all," he laughed lightly.

"Well, you're a good man, George, who's shown me every courtesy since this whole thing came about. I've known you since I was 11 and we've had many a heated argument since then and we're still civil, in the very least," Hermione pondered aloud, absently playing with her braid of hair over her shoulder.

"Is that what you call what happened? _Courtesy and civility?_" George's voice dropped an octave and Hermione felt his gaze intensify on her face. She pressed her lips together softly and took a slow breath.

"No, of course not. I call that _chemistry,_ if you _must _know," she answered, resisting the urge to hide her reddening face behind her hand and stared him straight in the eye. He was regarding her with a look and a tenseness in his body that she was sure meant he had something to say but didn't know quite how to say it. "Just to be clear and also quite frank, I very much enjoyed _that_, but if all we get out of a relationship with each other in the end is friendship and support, I'd sill count myself damn lucky."

"To be frank, I think I'm past that now," George rasped out. "The only way that would be okay with me is if you really didn't want..."

Hermione gazed at him sideways and took a breath. He did say before that he would be honest with her and she definitely owed him that as well. She stood and walked around the desk slowly, his eyes following her in the wake of his confession.

"I think it's safe to say," Hermione slowed and leant her backside against the edge of his worktop and turned her face to him, "that I'm enjoying the track we're on for now, and that if anything changes, you'll be the first to know."

George listened intently to her words and twisted on his stool with his feet resting on the rung below and knees sticking out. Hermione stepped closer and reached slowly for him, her fingertips and then her palm finding the roughness on his cheek. For a moment, George didn't move and Hermione thought maybe she had done something wrong. Then he opened his knees wider and she moved into the void the movement had created, her fingers threading into his hair. In turn, he raised his hands to grip low on her hips, his fingers curving around and gently squeezing as she bent over him and met his lips in a kiss. For once she was the one leaning over him and he sat up tall on the stool, further reducing the small difference in height between them. A few moments passed and Hermione's lips tingled under the pressure of his; she had been honest. She liked this path.

"Are you two finished yet?" Ron's voice broke the spell and they pulled apart grudgingly.

"You should learn to knock, little brother," George quipped, standing up and pressing his lips to Hermione's and giving her hip another squeeze before stepping back.

"I didn't think there'd be any danger of scarring my eyes in the backroom," Ron laughed, leaning against the doorframe.

"Ah, well, no where's safe now, so start making it a habit," George winked at Hermione and she shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"You two work fast," Ron threw back and Hermione laughed and coloured.

"I wouldn't say _that_," she drawled and sent an overly-exaggerated smouldering look in George's direction, which he returned in full.

"That's disgusting, I don't want to know, stop talking," Ron tilted his head up to gaze at the safe ceiling and shoved his hands in his pockets, and George grinned at Hermione from across the room, shooting her a thumbs up. She grinned and settled back at her desk, getting ready to bottle the potion she had just brewed for another WonderWitch product.

Ron and George left, with a glance back from Ron that Hermione gave a small wave at, and she busied herself with cleaning up and starting some Daydream Charms for the stock room, now that she knew how to make them correctly.

Some time later, Ron ambled back into the room and sat directly across from Hermione.

"How did it go?" she asked, not raising her eyes immediately.

"Good, the usual. George is going to teach me about the books next week after I spend some time working the front with Verity and Fred and learning how that works first," his answer came and was followed by a lengthy pause. "Hermione, do you... do you _love _him?"

"What?" she looked up suddenly, face stricken.

"Sorry, I just - you two, there's just something different. And he's smiling so bloody much, I just thought maybe you'd told him you love him or something," Ron shrugged.

"I don't love him," she spoke softly.

"_Yet_," Ron quipped with intent.

"Yet," Hermione acquiesced slowly with a nod. "Maybe I could one day."

"Does he know that?"

"I... don't know. We're sort of taking it in small steps, Ronald," Hermione felt somewhat out of her element at the topic of conversation, with _Ron_ of all people.

"I think the bloke's a couple steps ahead of you, _Hermione_," Ron stressed the use of her first name in return. She answered his remark with contemplative silence which Ron observed patiently for a while before interrupting her inner monologue by standing and shuffling to the door. "See you tomorrow, when you're less... whatever this is," he grinned knowingly before disappearing out the door.

Since when had Ron ever been so perceptive?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Two things.**

**1) This chapter officially puts this fic over 100,000 words so thank you all for sticking around so far and joining me in my little slice of guilty pleasure.**

**2) The time is coming, people. It has to happen, and it's going to be **_**soon**_**. I hope you're ready for the next step these two are going to be taking. (ps - I'm a little nervous about posting it, hahaha.)**

**As always, review! **

**Any thoughts on where we're headed? Let me know!**

**Until next chapter.**

**Cheers!**


	21. Chapter 21

Hermione worked long days at the shop that week before the day of her appointment with the florist came around on Thursday. Ron had spent the week shadowing Fred and Verity and learning to work the register and the nuances of customer service. For the most part, Hermione had to admit he had done well. He was being surprisingly mature about working with the twins; he had come a long way from trying to get them to give him free products because they were related.

Also, he seemed generally happy about being able to help them out and about the whole reason behind it. He had been paying Hermione and George a bit more attention than usual, and following his revelations on Monday about their relationship, Hermione had to wonder if Ginny was behind it.

Hermione was standing outside the florists a few minutes early and waiting for Ginny to show up; the girl had insisted she make her own way there to prove that she would know where it was when the time came to pick up the flowers for the actual wedding. It was a good thing that Hermione had made the appointment earlier in the day as the sun was gently warming the earth in the early afternoon. She had been tempted to pick later on but as the year wore on, the temperatures continued to drop and the weather forecast for Britain had been unseasonably cold for the next week.

"I've found it!" Ginny appeared at her side, wide smile in place. "Rest assured I'll be able to do it without help next time!" The redhead hugged her friend and they both went into the shop hurriedly. "So what was it you asked for?"

"Something winter appropriate, and pretty but not complicated or overlarge," Hermione answered as the wove their way through the buckets of fresh cut flowers and racks of pots and containers.

The lady behind the counter recognized her immediately and smiled.

"Hermione, so happy you could make it in today. I'm Nancy, lovely to meet you," the woman held out her hand for Ginny and the girl took it.

"I'm Ginny, the maid of honour, lovely to meet you as well," Ginny smiled.

"I have that sample we had discussed, Hermione, and I'm happy to make any changes you like today while you're here so that we can get it settled right away," she continued, turning to grab something from the back room. She returned with two small bouquets. The bigger of the two was a large clustering of entirely white flowers in the centre ringed with clusters of dark blue berries and springs of evergreen. "The flowers in the middle are just a mix of everything I have that is white; we have a few roses, peonies, white tuberose, a bit of lace flower, some spider mums, mistletoe around the edges and those are gardenias," the florist pointed them all out for inspection for the two women. "I was going to put some amaryllis in but... you just tell me if you like it and I will."

"What's amaryllis?" Ginny asked, puzzled by the unfamiliar name.

Nancy rounded the table and plucked a small white flower with pointed tips and held it for Hermione and Ginny to see. Hermione shook her head.

"No, I like these," Hermione pointed to the bouquet she had already assembled. "But could we take the roses out? I'm not a big fan of roses," she laughed. "I know it's a wedding and all but I really don't like them."

"Of course," the florist reached in and plucked out the few white roses that she had in the gathering of flowers already. "Shall I fill it up with something else?"

"More peonies?" Hermione suggested, looking to Ginny for advice.

"And spider mums," Ginny nodded reassuringly.

In a few moments, the woman had rearranged the flowers to substitute out the roses with the flowers of their choice. Hermione had liked it before but she liked it even more now.

"And the blue?"

"Yes, you said you were thinking of dark blue as your colour? So I went ahead and added these privet berries. If you just want white, I can take them out entirely or replace them with more mistletoe. And I added the pine sprigs because you said 'winter'. I can always use some fern or something less obvious," the florist held the flowers out to her.

"No, I really like the blue and the pine. What do you think Gin?" Hermione accepted them and took a closer look.

"I think it's lovely, yeah. Good choices. I think all white is the way to go, with the ice and the snow..." Ginny nodded, genuinely pleased.

"Excellent. And yours is just a bit smaller, but basically the same," the florist pulled the roses from Ginny's bouquet as well and handed it over for inspection alongside the other one.

"No, I like them, they're very beautiful," Ginny examined the flowers in her hand. "Are you happy with these Hermione? Anything else you want to add or take out?"

Hermione shook her head and the florist made a note for herself in the large black book that she used to keep track of orders and dates.

When the two girls exited the shop a bit later, Ginny insisted they go back to the Burrow and use the kitchen table to write invitations to the list Hermione and George had come up with in the last few days.

"So how's George taking all this planning stuff? And you, how are you getting on?" Ginny asked as they headed down the street in muggle London, looking for a good place to apparate.

"Fine, I think. He's going to go looking for suits with Fred next week I think. He asked if they could have blue suits instead of black," Hermione laughed and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"And what did you say? Do you really want them to wear _blue _suits?"

"I said he can do whatever he likes as long as it matches the blue from the bouquet. I didn't say he could wear turquoise, Ginny," she continued laughing.

"He's going to wear a blue suit," Ginny whispered, shocked look on her face. "And you've just said it's okay."

"I don't mind. If he wants a blue suit, he can have a blue suit," Hermione turned down a side street and cast a glance in either direction before leading Ginny in between two buildings and apparating them to the Burrow silently. "Have you made up your mind about Halloween yet?"

"Yes, I think I'll take him to Godric's Hollow myself and then we'll set up a dinner with everyone for us to come back to. The whole Order," she nodded as they mounted the back steps in the afternoon light.

"A dinner for who?" Molly appeared as they were hanging their coats on the rack by the door. "Hello, Hermione. How did the florist's go?" she asked, a glimmer of excitement in her eye.

"A dinner for Harry, mum, the one I was talking about earlier," Ginny responded as Hermione hugged her mother.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley. It went well, we both agreed that the bouquets were lovely," she responded after pulling back and the three women walked through to the kitchen.

"Wonderful news, dear. I've set this up for you here on the table," she pointed. The scrubbed wooden table had a stacks of squares of parchment, sealing wax and a candle, two fresh quills, and a full inkwell. "And there are some invitations that Arthur and I have received since our own marriage for you to reference for wording, if you like."

"Thank you; I was wondering where to start," Hermione laughed and pulled the list herself and George had worked on at the shop just that morning out of her pocket.

"So it's settled then. Hogwarts?" Molly asked, curious.

"Yes, Headmistress McGonagall said she would love to have us there over the break," Hermione and Ginny settled into chairs at the end of the table and Molly set the kettle on the stove to boil for tea.

"Lovely, dear. Ginny's told me what you wanted it to look like, and I think that'll be just beautiful, dear, and Arthur and I will of course help with the set up to make sure everything looks just like you want," she gushed.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione smiled and blushed.

"Oh it's not a problem, dear, and you had better stop calling me Mrs. Weasley, for that'll be _you _soon enough," she beamed and left the girls to start on the invitations.

Hermione and Ginny riffled through the old invitations, reading through the wording and sipping their tea quietly. As a rule, Hermione didn't like anything too wordy or pretentious or stressing too much on the 'true love' aspect of marriage. It felt wrong, particularly in their case where it was more of an agreement with hope of more in time than a love at first sight sort of situation. And so they settled on something simple.

_Together with their friends and family_

_Hermione Jean Granger_

_and_

_George Fabian Weasley_

_request the honour of your presence at their marriage_

_on Friday, the first of January_

_nineteen ninety-nine_

_at four o'clock in the afternoon at_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Scotland, UK_

Hermione made a copy of the final words and owled it to George for his opinion while the girls discussed what Hermione was looking for in a dress, and what Ginny would be looking for when they went shopping both for herself and for Hermione.

"Well, I chose that blue because I'm hoping it won't clash with the Weasley hair," Hermione voiced and Ginny nodded.

"Good choice, honestly. I think it'll go well," Ginny nodded, spreading a fresh sheet of parchment out between them and dipping her quill in the inkwell again. "So what are we looking for?"

Hermione grabbed up one of the magazines and showed her friend the dress in the picture.

"I really like this one, the way it trails like this," she ran her finger along the page to illustrate, "and I like this one," she flipped to another post-it, "the fabric and the neckline, but with longer sleeves..."

The girls flipped back and forth discussing things until Ginny had a small list of things Hermione really liked and a general idea of what to look for to help her. They also decided that Ginny should wear something made of the same fabric, shorter and in the dark blue Hermione had decided on.

Shortly, the Weasley's owl arrived back with George's response and he had stated that it was just fine.

Hermione and Ginny took the original and spelled it onto the stacks of parchment Mrs. Weasley had laid out for them, duplicating it the appropriate amount of times for the number of people they were inviting. Continuing to chat about the details Hermione had seen when she had been hiking on her cabin trip before, they elegantly quilled the names from the list they had split on the envelopes for the invitations and sealed them with wax when they were finished.

"I can run them to the Post Office tomorrow morning and have them sent out," Hermione stacked the finished envelopes on the table and the girls cleaned up after their wedding fest.

* * *

><p>A week later found Hermione shopping with Ginny in the third wedding boutique they had tried in muggle London. After working all through the weekend, Hermione was fading after yet another early morning at the shop.<p>

"So did you hear back from McGonagall about November 1st?" Ginny asked as they made their way slowly around a rack of dresses, Ginny pulling out ones that caught her eye.

"Yes, we set a meeting for early in the day so that it wouldn't disrupt her other plans; also I would prefer to start early on my first day. I have to get set up and I'd rather do it all at once and get started that afternoon, or the very next morning," Hermione wandered to another rack, running her finger along the satin and lace.

"On a Sunday? _Blah_, no thank you," Ginny stuck her tongue out. "And after a Halloween, too. We'll be busy all day! Good luck."

"Is there anything I can help you ladies with?" a woman appeared behind Hermione who was again trailing behind Ginny and they both jumped.

"We're just here on our first shopping trip," Ginny smiled. "Hermione is getting married and I'm her maid of honour, Ginny," she held out her hand and the woman took it firmly before looking to Hermione for the same.

"Nice to meet you! Have you set a date yet?" she enquired with a smile.

"Yes, January 1st," Hermione nodded.

"Oh my goodness! So close! We must try and find you something you adore," she turned and beckoned the girls to follow her. She grabbed a measuring tape from the rack behind the counter and motioned for Hermione to step up onto a small pedestal and she acquiesced.

"Okay, if you don't mind, could you take off your jacket? It'll help me take better measurements for you," she took a step back and cocked her hip to side, surveying Hermione with one eye squinted. Hermione popped the wooden buttons on her grey wool coat and unwound the knit scarf from her neck. Ginny held out her hand and took them from her, allowing the boutique lady to assess Hermione's shape and step forward brandishing her measuring tape. Trying her hardest not to shuffle or move, Hermione stood still as the woman whipped her tape around and made notations on her little pad of paper.

"Have you any idea of what you might like? Or do you just want to try a few on and see what strikes your fancy?" she bustled around Hermione. "Hold your arms out a little, please." Hermione followed her direction and the measuring tape made its way around her bust.

"Well, I'm not sure, we made some notes..." Hermione trailed off and sent a pleading look to Ginny, who was sitting with the coats on a small bench.

"I brought some pictures that Hermione flagged, just a second - here they are," Ginny pulled an envelope out of her purse and Hermione sent a silent thank you. This was not her forte. The lady held out her hand and Ginny handed her the envelope.

"Here, dear," she came back to Hermione and pulled the torn magazine pages out of the package, "show me what it is you like with these."

Hermione flipped through and explained her preferences and the woman listened, nodding at important moments and making more notes on her little pad of paper and asking Hermione to clarify anything that seemed vague.

"Alright, why don't you sit down for a second and I'll pull some dresses for you to try on that have some of those elements of design and we can go from there?"

"Thank you," Hermione nodded and hopped down from the raised area, joining Ginny on the bench and sighing heavily. "What if we can't find anything?" she moaned. "It sounds impossible."

"We'll find something, don't worry. Besides, we can always find something close and transfigure it to what you want. Mum is amazing at that sort of stuff, I swear."

Within a few minutes the lady reappeared and showed Hermione into the changing room off to the side of where Ginny was sitting and set four or five dresses up on the rack in there for her.

"I'll wait outside, and when you're ready I can do up the back and you can have a look, alright?"

Hermione nodded and pulled the curtain around the change area and tugged her sweater over her head, thanking the gods she had remembered not only to put her hair up this morning but also to wear her decent bra and most covering underwear for their excursion.

"So, tell me a bit about the groom!" she heard from the other side and Ginny laughed lightly.

"He's my brother, actually," she commented and the lady made a sound of approval.

"He's owns his own business with his twin, and one of her other brothers is helping them run it," Hermione elaborated.

"And what's his name, dear?"

"George," Hermione answered with a smile, taking the first gown down and stepping into the open back, shimmying it up her body and clasping the bodice to her chest before pulling back the curtain.

"_George_," the lady echoed and nodded, smiling at Hermione and motioning for her to turn a bit. Her nimble fingers soon had the back done up and she helped Hermione up onto the pedestal again and angled her towards the mirrors. "How do you feel about this one?"

Hermione examined her body in the dress and frowned.

"Not this one, then. Anything you _like _about it, or _don't_ like?" she wheedled.

"I like the train, it's not too long," Hermione answered. "And I like the sleeve length. But I don't like the fabric."

"Alright, next!" Ginny called, smiling, and made a note on her parchment with the ballpoint pen Hermione had insisted she use instead of a quill.

Hermione repeated the process with a handful more dresses until they seemingly struck gold. The woman's fingers quickly did up the tiny white buttons in the back, the dress fitting her almost perfectly and she grinned widely before helping Hermione up again and Ginny looked just as happy as Hermione felt.

"This is the one," she nodded, turned sideways in the mirror and nodded again in excitement.

Some time later the girls exited the shop with faces pink from excitement; they had bought the dress Hermione had settled on as well as one for Ginny that was in the same vein style wise, but appropriate for a bridesmaid. The muggle woman had regarded them with a confused face when they had turned down the fitting services and elected to take the dresses home that day. They had given their most convincing story of a family friend who was a seamstress doing all the work for them free of charge but the lady had still assured them they could bring them in any time and they would be happy to do it for them if the other lady fell through.

Ginny gingerly eased the garment bags into the back of her closet when they arrived back at the Burrow, assuring Molly that she would be able to see them soon enough to make the adjustments to them.

* * *

><p>That Saturday was October 31st and Hermione had a glorious sleep in, rising only because she had told the florist that she would be back with the deposit for the flowers that day. After her late start and lazy cup of tea and warm scone for breakfast, Hermione dressed and put out the fire, locking up for the day and trekking out to the spot she had set aside for apparition.<p>

The florist seemed quite confused upon Hermione's arrival.

"I did say I would come back today?" Hermione asked at the lady's smile.

"Oh, yes, you did but your fiancé was already here this morning and he paid us in full," she continued to grin, wrapping up a bundle of flowers as she did so. "He also said to make sure you took these with you," she held out the bundle she had just finished wrapping and Hermione felt a slow grin spread on her face as she reached out to take it from the woman.

When she arrived at the Burrow a few minutes later, Hermione was carrying a large bundle of white peonies and had a happy flush to her cheeks. She clambered up the back steps and let herself in, toeing off her shoes and letting them clatter to the floor before heading in the direction of the living room and kitchen hastily.

"Hello, Hermione! You're early," Arthur looked up from his paper at the sudden appearance of the girl in sitting room with a surprised smile.

"Hello! Yes, I know. Is George here yet?" she asked, breathless.

"No, no, just you. Ginny's upstairs and Molly's in the kitchen I think," he answered, taking in her eagerness and the flowers in her arms. "I take it those are from him?" he gave her a fatherly smile.

She smiled and carried on to the kitchen where she found Molly mixing some sort of batter she had yet to bake.

"Good morning, dear! Well aren't those lovely?" she pointed to Hermione's arms. "Would you like to put them in some water until you can take them home?"

Once they were in a large vase filled with water, Mrs. Weasley sent her up to make sure Ginny was up and about now that the hour was approaching noon. Hermione scarpered up the stairs and knocked lightly on Ginny's door.

"I'm awake," came the monotone muffled reply from her friend.

"It's Hermione," she stated, sticking her head in through the cracked opening.

"Come on in then," Ginny's muffled voice answered from beneath her pillows.

"Are you really still asleep?" Hermione asked, shutting the door behind herself and stepping over the clothes on the floor on her way to perch on the edge of the bed.

"Are you really up this early?" Ginny pushed back the comforter and propped herself up sleepily on an elbow.

"It's after eleven!" Hermione laughed and Ginny waved a hand absently and brushed back some messy hair that had escaped the braid she had put it in the night before.

"I only sleep in on Sundays as it is," she flopped back down dramatically. "Why are you here so early? Don't you normally go into the shop?"

"Well, I had to go to the florist's this morning to pay them, but it turns out George already did!" Hermione shrugged with a smile.

"I know," Ginny rolled her eyes. "He came to interrogate me about which one you went to so that he could beat you to it; you must have mentioned having to go back today because the man knew exactly what to ask," Ginny laughed.

"And you _told_ him?" Hermione shook her head.

"He was insistent," she defended. "So are you going to tell me what's got him in such a good mood?"

"No," Hermione gave her a look. "It's not what you think, anyway."

Ginny chuckled into her pillow again before pulling herself out of bed and standing in front of her mirror and trying to tame her hair. After the redhead dressed, they made their way downstairs and Mrs. Weasley made them a light lunch.

"So I was thinking about what we had talked about to do with you coming to stay at the cabin with me once you're done with exams, and I thought that you could also stay there whenever you like over the next year. I won't be there anyway, not all the time at least," Hermione spoke, and then lowered her voice. "And you're welcome to use it as a getaway when you need time away from your mum."

"You are a lifesaver," Ginny sighed quietly. "I wouldn't stay there all the time, just once in a while, when she's really getting on my nerves," Ginny laughed and took a long sip of her tea.

"Of course, whatever you like. I should think it'll be empty quite a lot, and most of my things will be there, so it'll be completely usable for you. I'll just have to show you a few things, like the muggle water heater and whatnot and then you'll be set for solitude," Hermione nodded reassuringly and Ginny stood to take their dishes into the kitchen and top up their tea.

"Whose are _these_?" Ginny asked, pointing to the large vase with the white peonies.

"Mine," Hermione stated, trying to keep her face from giving her away.

"From who?" Ginny's head snapped sharply around. "George?"

"Yes," Hermione answered. "He left them at the flower shop for me to pick up when I went to pay the bill he'd already settled." The same slow smile appeared on her face and Ginny grinned, giving her a significant look. "Yes, yes, I know."

"You know what?" Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"You were going to say something like 'you _like_ him' or 'that was really _sweet_ of him' or something like that," Hermione grinned and shook her head.

"Well you _do_ like him," Ginny laughed. "It's pretty obvious these days."

The two finished their tea and talked about Hermione leaving for Hogwarts the next morning and how she had packed her bags with the basics she would need to take with her. It would be strange being at Hogwarts and having the freedom to come and go as she pleased, not having to have her parents sign a release form for her to go into Hogsmeade on predetermined weekends or having to sneak out because Harry had had some harebrained idea about breaking into the Ministry to save Sirius. McGonagall had mentioned that the rooms she had set aside for Hermione were very nice with a great view and that she was sure she would like them very much. Ginny made Hermione promise to tell her all about them when she got settled.

Later on in the afternoon Harry arrived for the short trip to Godric's Hollow that Ginny had planned for them.

"Hey Hermione," he gave her a one-armed hug after finding the two in the kitchen.

"Hello Harry," she hugged him tightly back.

"Those yours?" he pointed to the flowers with a shrewd look thrown sideways at her.

"Yes," she grinned.

All in all, Harry seemed to be in good spirits considering the significance of the day. After the two bundled up and left, trudging through the yard and clasping gloved hands together.

Hermione spent the afternoon before everyone started showing up helping Molly tend to the herb boxes in the kitchen window and icing the cake she had baked just after Hermione had arrived. At Molly's insistence, Hermione described the scene she had seen of the Tranfiguration Courtyard done up for a wedding and the older woman had lapped it up appropriately.

"Oh, Hermione, that sounds so lovely," she sighed when she had mentioned the tree covered in ice crystals and glittering under the glow of the twinkling lights suspended over the chairs lining the sides of the aisle cleared for her to walk down. Speaking of which, Hermione had yet to ask anyone to walk her down the aisle and give her away. Excusing herself, she made her way around to the sitting room in search of the only father figure she had at her disposal.

"Mr. Weasley," she drew his attention once more from his Sunday Prophet and he raised his eyes expectantly, bright and cheerful as they always were.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"I had a question," she settled on the sofa closest to his squishy chair and blinked at him quietly.

"As you do," he chuckled and folded his paper across his lap, giving her his full attention. "Go on."

"Well, I've been thinking that - that since my dad isn't here, to walk me... down the aisle, I wanted to ask you if _you _would do that for me. I know you're not my father," she rushed out, hoping he would not decline, "but you come very close, considering." She worried her lower lip and forced herself to meet his eyes. How she had ever thought that this man would turn her down was beyond her and relief flooded through her veins when she smiled at his reaction.

"Hermione, it would be my _honour_ to give you away to my son," he beamed. "That's fantastic, that's just - Molly!" he jumped up spryly and Mrs. Weasley poked her head around the corner.

"Arthur?"

"Hermione's just asked me to walk her down the aisle! Hermione, that's just - I would love to!" he turned back to face her and pulled her up and into a hug. Hermione laughed with him and Molly flapped her dishcloth and dabbed at her eyes delicately.

"Well, isn't that just lovely of you dear?" she commented and approached, also hugging Hermione.

"I thought you would ask Harry," Arthur pitched in, somewhat bemusedly.

"I would have asked him if you had said no," she nodded.

"Good Heavens, whatever had you thinking I should turn down the opportunity?" he sunk back into his chair, still elated.

"I don't know," she answered with the shake of her head. "I just didn't want to get my hopes up, I suppose."

"My darling girl," Molly began, "You are just as much a part of the family as Harry is, and you know who we feel about him, bless his soul."

Just as Molly was patting Hermione's arms consolingly while she teared up a little, her eyes swimming with tears, the back door opened and in came George. He stopped when he rounded the corner and saw Hermione's face over his mother's shoulder.

"Uh oh," he glanced around the room warily.

"No, no, it's nothing bad!" Hermione smiled and wiped her eyes with one hand while waving off George's hesitation with the other. Molly let her go and George opened his arms for his as she skipped across the living room to him. He squeezed her when she laid her head against his chest. "I've just asked your dad to give me away." He started and pulled back, eyes wide and face happy.

"You _did_?"

Hermione nodded and George looked up at his parents, who watched on.

_"And?"_

"I said yes, of course," Arthur laughed and Molly clasped her hands together happily.

"What? That's great!" he hugged Hermione tighter and she let him, grinning into his jacket. She knew the Weasleys were like family to her, and she knew they loved her like their own, but when it was voiced as such it brought it home for her. The fact was that her parents were probably not going to be able to be at her wedding, and Molly and Arthur had been her adoptive magical parents for some time now.

"Thank you for the flowers," she tipped her head up and looked up at him through her eyelashes and he grinned down at her with a tinge of bashfulness.

"You're welcome, love. I seem to recall you liking peonies even _more _than lilies."

Hermione smiled wider and nodded gently, standing on her tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. He closed his eyes for the brief exchange and leaned down as she pulled away, trying to keep their lips touching for as long as possible and she laughed, twisting away from him gently and out of his grip. When they both turned back to his parents they found they were being watched closely by the two who shared a look between them.

Shortly after, people started showing up in ones, twos and mores. Arthur and Molly had invited the entire Order of the Phoenix along with many of the people who had fought alongside them in the Final Battle. A great number of them had been invited to George and Hermione's wedding, and approached the couple to congratulate them and confirm that they would, in fact, be there.

"Say hello, Teddy!"

Hermione turned to see Remus holding the little seven month old in his arms and she grinned widely at his tiny costume as he squirmed in Remus' hold.

"Happy Halloween, Teddy!" Hermione voiced and the little boy found her instantly, turning to face her and reaching out a hand, opening and closing it quickly. She reached for him and Remus let him slide into her arms.

"Oh my goodness, you are the most ferocious tiger I have ever seen! Yes, you are," she adjusted the orange and black striped ensemble the little boy was wearing, hood complete with little stuffed ears. Teddy gurgled back at her, drool dribbling down his chin and Remus reached over to wipe his face, finishing before he even had the chance to get fussy.

"And drooly," his father commented. "I swear, the tyke could fill a swimming pool a day at the rate he's going."

"It's probably just because he's a _hungry_ tiger, aren't you Teddy? Are you hungry? _Grrrrr..._" Hermione wiggled her fingers over the boy's belly and he giggled at her funny noises.

"So how are you feeling about tomorrow?" Remus asked, turning the conversation somewhat more adult.

"Good, nervous, excited," Hermione grinned up at him, bouncing Teddy on her hip a little as she did so. "Eager to start, really."

"I had no doubt about that."

"Hermione! You've set a date!" Tonks stumbled through the crowd and the two shared a quick hug. "Congratulations! Of course, we'll be there."

"Thanks, Tonks. We're hoping everyone won't be _too_ hungover from New Years Eve to come," Hermione laughed.

"Nah, we just won't stop drinking," the woman joked, her hair turning slightly more bubblegum as she spoke.

"And how's the little chap?" George's voice came from behind Hermione and Teddy looked up at the tall ginger, hood falling over an eye as he gazed up. "Teddy the _Tiger_! That's fantastic mate, great choice," George laughed and set a hand on Hermione's shoulder and used the free one to rub Teddy's back gently. "Who decided to dress him up?"

Teddy's parents laughed good-naturedly and pointed at one another.

"We both did, really. Actually, my mum suggested it," Tonks answered. "My dad used to let me dress up and go house to house when I was little; my mum never really understood why but we always had a great time," she explained.

"And my mother was a muggle so we did the same," Remus smiled fondly. "Just for good fun, really."

"Plus, he's right adorable," Ginny appeared, pulling a face at the little boy in Hermione's arms and surveying her older brother's stance over the two.

"Teddy!" Harry also appeared just behind Ginny and the boy started to squirm in her arms.

"_Ha_-ee, Ha-ee!"

"How's my tiger?" Harry accepted the baby from Hermione happily and Teddy thumped his head against Harry's shoulder a few times enthusiastically.

"Hello, Harry," Tonks started.

"How are you today?" Remus gripped Harry's shoulder and the two shared a one-armed manly hug.

"As well as can be, you?"

"The same as every year, but with more to keep me happy," Remus replied and surveyed their small gathering amongst the crowd milling about the ground floor of the Burrow.

"Harry!" Luna Lovegood had wove her way over with Dean Thomas in tow and greetings were exchanged. Soon the group had to disperse as Harry's presence was in high demand. The dark-haired man disappeared into the crowd with his godson and Ginny and Remus and Tonks left to speak with Kingsley and Arthur.

Before long there was a repetitive cry circling around the room, demanding Harry to make a speech and Ginny pulled out a step stool for him to stand on. The crowd of people pushed in tightly for as many people to see him as possible; Kingsley was leaning in the open half-door that led to the garden from the kitchen, Fred and Lee and a bunch of other Gryffindor Quidditch Team members were all perched on the kitchen counter to make more floor space for others, Hagrid was listening through the window, and many others crowded into the space and perched on the edge of counters and tables. George again stood behind Hermione and this time let his hands settle on her hips, tugging her back against his chest as she cocked her hip and placed both of her hands over one of his.

"Alright, alright!" he cried, laughing and balancing Teddy on his side. "I'm absolutely terrible at these things! I'll just say thank you to everyone who came today; I know my parents would be so happy to know that I have such a great _huge_ family and that we have achieved what they set out to do when the first Order was formed! This day marks 17 years of them watching over me and I am thankful to you all for helping me show them that while they may be gone, they are _far _from forgotten!" Harry looked down at Ginny who stood just a few feet away at his side and extended his hand to her, which she clasped tightly in her own, bright eyes reassuring him. "To James and Lily Potter!"

"To James and Lily!"

"James and Lily!

"To the Potters!"

There was a great chorus of toasting and people clinked glasses of butterbeer and elf-made wine together, embracing their neighbours and generally inciting happiness around the crowd.

"This is good," George balanced his chin on top of Hermione's crown and she laughed, turning in his arms.

"Of course it's good. Harry's happy, Voldemort's dead, people are in good spirits," she commented.

"And there's us," George grinned.

"And there's us," Hermione echoed. "You know, all these people," she started, "they remind me that I have such a large family. Before I went to Hogwarts, it was just me and my parents. And now..."

"You have my family, Harry, Teddy and the Lupins, McGonagall even," George laughed. "Yeah, I can see how that would be different."

"I like -" Hermione started. "Well, I like the thought that if something were to happen to us, our theoretical kids would have such a huge supportive family, that they wouldn't be alone."

"Of course they wouldn't," George frowned. "That would never be the case. But what would happen to us?"

"I don't know. Something we couldn't see coming," Hermione suggested with a small shrug.

"Ah, don't let that eat at you. Everything is safe now, at least, its a damn sight better than when we were kids. They're working on rounding up the last of the Death Eaters and trying them for their crimes. There's nothing to worry about," George reasoned.

"I suppose. It's just a comforting thought that there's just so many good people around us," Hermione sighed and smiled up at him.

"Too right," he pecked her on the forehead and they joined the queue around the table that Molly had just filled with food.

Hermione and George received a few more handshakes, congratulations and pats on the back from others invited to the festivities on January 1st before they settled outside on the back step to eat. Eventually Fred pulled George away for something and Hermione found herself balancing a sleepy Teddy and deep in conversation with Ginny, Angelina and Fleur about everything from Fleur's morning sickness, Angelina's non-symptoms, her own wedding plans, and Ginny's description of her and Harry's visit to the graveyard where his parents were buried.

The night wore on and people trickled out, saying their goodbyes to Harry and the rest, well wishes flying around haphazardly. When there was a more manageable amount of people in the house, Hermione found George settled on the couch in the living room in deep conversation with Fred and Ron over something regarding the shop and she settled beside him easily. Teddy had started to doze off in her arms and as she reclined against George, his fight to stay awake ended. The little boy curled up on her chest with his head tucked under her chin and his tiger costume keeping him snuggly warm. Hermione rubbed circles on his back soothingly and revelled in the feel of sleeping baby while only half-listening to the people around her and twirling his tiny tiger tail around her fingers.

Today had been a day full of loved ones and little ones, friends and family, and comfort and celebration and happiness and support; a very full day indeed. Ginny had succeeded in showing Harry that the positive would always beat the sadness of the day, and that all the people he held dear felt the exact same about it. It was not something that he should hide or spend wallowing in sadness but something that should be remembered and celebrated and toasted. They had come too far after so long to let anything but happiness linger in their hearts.

The night got later and tea was passed around after Remus had carefully lifted his son from his chosen spot on Hermione and she had pulled her feet up under herself, burrowing into George's side, laying a palm on his chest. Contentment was the general feeling she had and she didn't have any desire to rush the night along or go home or do anything other than what she was doing just in that moment. It seemed completely natural to be with him, and the people around them paid them almost no attention or awkward glances.

Soon, Angelina and Fred said goodbye to go back to her place and start packing and organizing for moving. The two had settled the deed on the house they had found and would officially own it the next day, at which point they would fix it up and then start moving in over the course of the month. They had assured George and Hermione that they would be completely moved in by the beginning of December.

"I'm ready to go, how about you?" George asked, cocking his head towards the door subtly.

"Mhm," Hermione agreed, standing and stretching.

"Right, we're off," George announced and Hermione made the rounds, hugging everyone still left and promising to see them as soon as she could manage after settling at the castle.

"I wanted to show you something at the flat," George told her as they were donning their outdoor clothes and carrying the large bunch of flowers out with them. "Can we drop these off and then I'll take you over?"

"Sure," Hermione nodded, wondering what he had in store for her. The two popped to the cabin and set the flowers on the kitchen table in a vase Hermione pulled from the cupboard under the sink before leaving again and George apparated them into the living room of the flat.

Hermione noticed that a few things that had been there last time, like pictures or knickknacks on the table were gone. He led her down the back hallway and Hermione hesitantly followed. He glanced back at her and then pushed into one of the rooms there, tugging her in.

"Fred packed up his stuff a few days ago," George grinned, motioning around, "so I thought that it would be nice for you to have a space to work away from Hogwarts, for weekends, if you wanted. I did say you could come anytime, and I did mean it."

Hermione stared around the room in awe.

She had no idea what it had looked like before but George had turned it into something fantastic. There was a dark wood L-shaped desk in one corner with a large bookcase at the end of the long arm, a wide window with long cream curtains, a small closet and a bed with an antique brass frame in the corner behind the open door. The walls were painted a light sage green and Hermione found she very much liked the colour choice.

"George!" she threw her arms around his neck. "This is wonderful! Did you do all this?"

"Oh, yes, it did _not_ look like this when Fred lived in here," he laughed. He was silenced quickly by her lips and Hermione felt his lips upturned in a small smirk against her own. He held her close and slid his hands down her back and they came to rest tucked in her back pockets none too innocently.

"Thank you," she whispered up to him. "If this in an effort to get me to visit often, then you have likely succeeded. I love it."

George grinned and lowered his head again. Hermione felt the familiar flush start somewhere around her navel and start creeping up her torso as they stood in the middle of the room and kissed. Hermione broke it off with a sigh sometime later as George's hand sneaked into her open coat and slid from her hip up to cup her through her sweater. Her eyes opened and met his and they both slowed and stared at the other, silent and contemplative but bodies still pressed together.

Equally as slowly, Hermione grasped his leather coat in her hands and pushed it off his shoulders, tossing it onto the bed when it fell free of him. When he responded by reciprocating, Hermione toed her shoes off and started backing up out of the room. George followed after her, a darkening around his irises telling her that he was contemplating the exact same things as she was. He followed after her and pressed her into the closed door across the hall from her new room, her hands finding the hem of his shirt and tugging it up over his head before he even knew what had happened.

He sighed happily as her fingers ghosted over his stomach and up over his chest, squeezing his shoulders in her small hands as she did so. Tilting her head up, he delved into her mouth, opening her up for him without a second thought. His hand searched out the doorknob and twisted it, Hermione stepping back into the room as the door swung open easily, pulling her sweater and shirt over her head quickly. Her flush was creeping steadily up, colouring her chest in warm patches and he grinned, pulling her again into an embrace. Without much warning her bra was gone and she gave a small gasp when they had skin on skin contact between them.

George kissed her again, more insistently, with one hand trailing from where it was tangled in her hair at the base of her neck down her spine and cupping her bottom firmly to push her harder against him. Both of them moaned into the other's mouth and George shuffled her back gently until the back of her knees touched what she assumed was his bed. She sat and shuffled back slowly, looking up at him through her dark eyelashes, heart thrumming excitedly in her chest at the thought of what may be to come. Before she got too far away he reached for the fly of her jeans and she nodded her approval when he glanced up at her. When he dragged the zipper down and tugged her pants off, she moaned again; her skin was hot and the room was cool and the contrast made her skin goosebump and her nipples peak tightly. His look darkened and he quickly shucked his own bottoms, revealing his dark blue boxer shorts to her and she giggled, breaking the pattern of moans and groans and sighs for a moment.

"What's so funny, Granger?" he growled, climbing onto the bed after her and forcing her to shuffle up farther, her head meeting his pillow shortly.

"Nothing," she grinned, allowing him to settle beside her, his weight leaning into her comfortingly. "I just think you're very handsome."

"Thank you," he smirked. "I happen to think you're pretty beautiful yourself." He emphasized the point by running a palm up from her knee to her hip, stopping to fiddle with the band of her underwear and continuing up her smooth side. When he stopped at her breast, she tugged his face down to her and they latched together again, her back arching as it had done the last time in her own bed. When he let go, his fingers trailed down her stomach lightly, tickling and causing her muscles to jump and her breath to come more heavily as he neared his destination. George brushed against the lace trim of her underwear and she puffed out some air in anticipation. His fingers lingered there, moving back and forth from hipbone to hipbone as he nuzzled her neck and placed kisses down her chest and shoulder.

"Please," she breathed out.

"May I?" his voice was deep and so close to her hear it gave her shivers.

_"Yes,"_ she breathed again.

For a long moment, her breathing felt like it completely ceased after that; his palm came down much more solidly than his fingers had and he slid his flat hand down, down, down over her mound, massaging gently as he did so.

"Ahhhh," she hissed, and he removed his hand momentarily to coax her thighs farther apart. Her hands were fisted in his blanket and he came back to trail over the damp material she had exposed by moving. The second he felt her wetness, he groaned heavily in her ear and his hips jumped forward, grinding against her upper thigh.

"Ah, sorry," he hissed, followed quickly by a gasp and his head falling limply to her shoulder as she reached down and wrapped her fingers around him, squeezing firmly through his boxers.

He was hot and hard and throbbing in her palm and she felt the zap of the knowledge that it had been _her _to create such a reaction in him head straight for her centre, signalling more wetness to pool for him to feel. His palm pressed more firmly and she squirmed against him, wanting more friction than she was receiving. George demanded her lips again and pressed her into the mattress more firmly, anticipating the more violent bodily reaction she gave when he hooked a finger under the thin material and brushed directly against her slick lips with his calloused finger. She cried out loudly and fisted her hands in his hair, body bowed back tightly.

"Shhh," he whispered in her ear and she shuddered under him.

"Again," she whined.

"No need to be so bossy, love," he chuckled against her and acquiesced, swallowing her groan of satisfaction when he did. He brushed and dipped and explored the wetness of her, finding her attentive nub of nerves and swirling gently around it, pulling back to watch her face contort in pleasure in the dim light of the room. When he lowered his lips to her chest again and laved at her there while his fingers worked her slowly, she felt as though she might explode at any second. He continued, despite her breathy warnings and shushed her, insisting she relax and let it happen if it wanted to. When her body tensed even further under his ministrations, when she reached the point that she could bear being pulled so taught no longer, George's hand guided her over the edge.

She was falling and shaking and calling out and gasping air into her lungs in heaving shudders. White light, tingling, tensing and slow blinking.

"Beautiful," he whispered when she came back down and her eyes met his again sanely and her head dropped back into the pillow, still.

"Merlin," she whispered into the darkness and realized that he was still caressing her inner thighs and stomach slowly, revelling in her nakedness against him. She turned her head to him again and brushed some hair out of her bright eyes. "I want that with you," she stated.

"Hermione, we don't have to -"

"I know we don't. I _want _to, unless you don't?" she pressed, rolling closer to him and setting her chin on her hand.

"Of course I do," he answered with a laugh and she nodded.

"Good. Take those off," she nodded her head at his boxers and he saluted her before shucking them off and dropping them over the side of the bed where she assumed the rest of their clothes would be laying in a heap. He reached over her and hooked his thumbs under the band of her underwear and pulled them down her thighs slowly. Hermione shivered under his gaze as it slid down from her nose to her chest, around her navel and stopped at her slightly parted thighs. He crawled closer, balancing on his knees and squeezing her own in his hands, sliding the calloused palms down and tempting them farther apart.

"Mmm," he growled low in his throat approvingly as her centre was exposed to him fully for the first time. Hermione glanced down and found that he himself was dark and full with want and so hard that he was standing straight up, pointing up his own chest and at the ceiling. He leaned down and kissed her more softly than he had earlier, settling his hard body against her soft one. He slid on arm under her, leaning on his elbow for support, and when their hips finally pressed against each others, unhindered by clothing, Hermione gasped in amazement at her body's absolute need for this man. He had just guided her over the edge of orgasm minutes before and she was already feeling the ache again. She arched her hips, sliding her dampness over his hardness and he hissed, letting his forehead fall against hers.

"You're sure?" he voiced lowly.

"Very sure," Hermione answered just as lowly. Her body was calling, calling out its emptiness, knowing that the solution was _right there_.

He reached down and brushed his tip against her lips firmly, making her squirm under him before lining up at her slick entrance. The head of him sat right at her opening rigidly and he touched his forehead to hers once more. She felt his eyes on her and looked up at him, noting they were almost close enough for her to go cross-eyed, an innocent thought in the moment.

And then he was pressing into her, slowly, slowly, and when his hips were snug against hers, she noticed that his eyes were closed in concentration and raised a thumb to brush against his brow. He gave a shuddering breath and she leant up to capture his lips with hers soundly and he pulled his hips back just as slowly, both of them taking in a lungful of air through their noses. His eyes were on hers again, dark, the darkest blue she had ever seen, and he paused before pushing back in, both of them calling out before building into a slightly faster pace.

This what she had wanted, before she had even known she had wanted it at all.

This was so completely right feeling.

Before long, Hermione's legs were wrapped tightly around George and his hand gripped one, hiking it higher on his hip, causing Hermione to groan loudly at the different sensation. His pubic bone was pushing rhythmically against hers and she felt the familiar ball of static growing inside her. She was close again, so close.

"Faster," she gasped against George's shoulder and he complied, urging his thrusts into her a tad faster than before. It was enough and Hermione felt her release shatter around him, starting slowly and speeding up, ripping through her tensed body and she cried out as he continued to pump into her. His rhythm started to stutter and shake and he clutched her tight to him.

In the wake of her second orgasm, she gazed up at him, clenching around him tightly inside her and urging him on. His hips snapped to hers erratically and she saw the moment his control broke in his eyes. They glazed over, seeing nothing but fireworks and he shuddered his release into her, his weight falling tired and spent onto her body.

It was a new feeling for her, how the crushing weight of the man ontop of her was not worrisome and was actually pleasant after such activities and she basked in the afterglow. George's head had fallen to her shoulder and he did not move for a minute or two, breathing heavily against her. Their bodies were slicked in sweat and Hermione felt the chill start to creep in around the edges of her reality as he propped his head up on his hand lazily and stared at her unabashedly as though he wasn't still inside her where their bodies were joined.

"You are _bloody _amazing, did you know that?" his voice was tired and faint after all his thrusting and groaning and she found that she rather liked the sound.

"Thank you, as are you," she smiled lazily at him from the pillow and shifted against him.

"Whoops, sorry. Here you go," he pulled back and collapsed to her side on his back.

"Bathroom?" she asked, gingerly scooting to the edge of the mattress and stepping over the clothes there.

"I'd show you but I can't move yet," he laughed lightly. "Hang a right at the door."

His eyes followed her as she made her way around the room and slipped out the bedroom door, turning right at his instructions and finding the bathroom immediately. She entered and shut the door behind herself, taking a deep breath and sitting down on the cold toilet. After cleaning up and flushing, she decided that she was too sweaty and covered in too many bodily fluids for her to be able to sleep comfortably and she turned the shower on. George wouldn't mind, surely.

She quickly lathered in his soap and rinsed the sweat from her hair and body.

That had been mind-blowingly good. She could feel the ache in her muscles and knew that tomorrow she would be tender but it would all be worth it because he had made her see stars. It had exceeded her expectations by far and she sighed happily, an unbeatable smile on her face.

When she climbed out, she grabbed a clean towel from the stack on a shelf and wrapped it around her tired body, squeezing water from her hair into the bathtub. Exiting the bathroom, she found George rounding the corner and they traded places with a knowing smile and he sauntered into the bathroom buck-naked, winking at her over his shoulder.

When he returned to bed, he found Hermione curled up in one of his old shirts and a pair of his boxers that she must have found in a drawer. Pulling a clean pair on himself, he slid into bed beside her and she sighed, half asleep already. Slowly she curled into him and the pair drifted off, warm and content and happy against each other.

Hours later, Hermione cracked an eye in the semi-darkness of the room, checking the bedside clock for the time and inwardly groaning. If she didn't get up and leave now, she would be late to see McGonagall and that was not permissible on the best of days. Today was the 1st of November and she was starting her job; there was no room for lateness. She looked up at George and found him fast asleep, his arm curled around her as it had been when they had fallen asleep. Gently, she extracted herself from his embrace and changed back into her own clothes, folding the ones she had slept in neatly and leaving them on the pillow beside him. Hurriedly she collected her things; another glance at the clock told her she needed to leave for home immediately to fetch her things and possibly change into clean clothes before going to Hogwarts.

"Goodbye, George," she whispered and pecked his cheek softly, smiling as he snuffled into his pillow.

She had turned and reached the door when she had heard him open his mouth.

"Mmmbyeloveyou."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: For all of you waiting (somewhat) patiently, there you go.  
><strong>

**Hopefully it lived up to expectations.**

**I need to know I haven't just ruined the whole thing by letting them go at it finally, hahaha. It's taken 112,000-ish words to get here, I don't know how much longer I could have kept them apart, to be honest. **

**Leave a review!**

**(Can't Help Falling in Love - Ingrid Michaelson's cover - it holds a special place in my heart, and I lent it to the entire chapter from the very beginning.)**


	22. Chapter 22

Hermione managed to pop home to grab her bags and Crookshanks, apparate to Hogsmeade, and hike up to the castle faster than she had ever thought possible. The sheer uproar that she was dealing with in her mind and body over what George had snuffled out in his sleepy state were thankfully overshadowed by the excitement of the day. Hermione tried her very hardest to keep her panicky thoughts over his words in the background, and most of the time she was somewhat successful.

"So, in essence, you should use every resource the castle could provide you for your research, such as portraits..."

_"Mmmbyeloveyou."_

"...the ghosts, the entire library is at your disposal..."

_"-byeloveyou."_

"All of the professors are aware of your incumbency here for the duration of the next 12 months..."

"-_loveyou."_

"And I informed the students of your tenure at last night's feast. They have been to instructed to give you every respect they would a professor, as you are here at Hogwarts for a very important and dignified cause," McGonagall walked with her down the corridor, presumably in the direction of her rooms.

"Thank you Headmistress, but it really wasn't necessary," Hermione insisted, walking alongside the older Gryffindor emptyhanded. The house elves had taken her possessions up to her room to allow her time to talk with the Headmistress and for her to show the girl where she would be staying.

"Oh, Hermione, really we are very much past the formalities; you are no longer my student, and I am no longer your professor. We are on much more even ground, and you are not employed by the school in any way. Please call me Minerva; I will only insist on 'Headmistress' if you are speaking of me to a student or professor," the woman cracked a rare smile and the two women carried on up the corridor.

"After everything... I suppose that's quite reasonable," Hermione acknowledged, pushing George to the back of her mid yet again.

"Yes, quite. And you of course may eat in your rooms as much as you like, but should you find yourself in need of company or socialization, I have had a chair added to the High Table for you." At this Hermione must have shown her shock apparently for McGonagall gave a small laugh under her breath. "Hermione, you are deserving of all of these liberties. You have done a great service for wizardkind, and indeed, for _human_kind as a whole. My dear, let me assure you, you _are_ deserving; we can never repay you and even so, we must still try."

"I never thought..." Hermione shook her head and brushed her hand over her eyes briefly, "I never thought I'd ever sit at the High Table, or be considered a _hero_, or - or any of this. I did it because it was right."

"And that is _exactly _what makes you so deserving. You must see my point," the Headmistress slowed her pace in the seventh floor corridor as they neared a very large portrait of Heliotrope Wilkins, a former Headmistress with very dark hair. Hermione knew who this woman was from her visits to the Head's office when it had been Dumbledore's as a smaller portrait of her hung there by default. She also had another hanging near the Grand Staircase. Hermione looked at her old professor and the shrewd woman gave her a knowing lip purse.

Hermione had given her parents the names of Monica and Wendell Wilkins before sending them off in the direction of Australia to escape capture, torture and death at the hands of Voldemort and his cronies.

Choosing to remain mute on the subject, Hermione waited for McGonagall to open the entrance and followed her into the room beyond.

It was just as one would expect it to be as an unused professor's quarters. There was plenty of space on bookshelves, to Hermione's delight, and the room they had entered into was the living space; there was a large fireplace and mantle with a round coffee table before it, surrounded by a large couch and several squishy looking chairs. Beyond that was a large, very tall wall with nearly floor to ceiling windows tipped in gothic looking peaks, painstaking detail having been lent to the design carved into the stonework throughout the whole room, but particularly noticeable around the window panes. They faced southeast, meaning that Hermione would receive plenty of light in the morning and through into the afternoon, which suited her just fine, and also meant that she had a fantastic view of the Black Lake.

"On the south side we are in essence closer to Ravenclaw Tower than Gryffindor Tower, however I did not think you would have any misgivings about the potential unfamiliarity of this part of the castle, as the Library is almost directly below you here, by four floors," McGonagall continued on when Hermione nodded happily. "Through here is the bed chamber."

They pushed the wooden door open and passed through a vaulted doorway into a smaller room with a very large four-poster bed, side tables, vanity and armoire. The stone floors here and in the large room had carpets throughout and Hermione thanked the castle for providing some insulation against the bitter winter cold that was seeping in. Through a small doorway directly across from the bedroom entrance Hermione could see into the bathroom, large clawfoot tub just visible. The light spilling into the small room indicated more large windows in there as well. Hermione guessed that the same ones were behind the blue floor to ceiling hangings in the bedroom too. There on the floor were her bags along with Crookshanks' carrier; he must be around somewhere, perhaps out exploring the castle again.

"You were right, Professor, I do love these rooms. If there was more red, it would be reminiscent of the Gryffindor dormitories. The wood looks just the same," she smiled and ran a finger over the fluffy white duvet.

"I'm sure the house elves could find you more Gryffindor accents, should you ask for them," she smiled.

Shortly, she left Hermione to her own devices and she unpacked, filling the armoire with her clothes and robes, placing the few books she had brought with her on the shelves and organizing the massive desk that sat in front of the tall windows. The fire crackling in the grate kept the whole place warm and Hermione sat on the plush sofa for a moment.

_"Mmmbyeloveyou."_

Hermione sunk her head into her hands and took a breath.

So he loved her.

It wasn't a shock.

She had been thinking for a while now that she maybe did not have every piece of the puzzle of why George treated her in the manner he did. This was just the piece she had been missing, and if she thought about it, it made sense.

He loved her.

He probably didn't even know what he had said.

He had been sprawled in bed half covered by tangled sheets and blanket, face slack and younger looking. He had been asleep, for the most part, aside from shuffling around after she had kissed his cheek and whispered goodbye.

After they had shared quite a significant night together.

Perched on the sofa in the silent room she could feel the aftereffects of the night before. Her body was lethargic, in the most deeply satisfied way she had ever felt before. All the tension that had been building between them for the last two months had finally come to a head, and had she had any inklings about him not caring the utmost for her, she would not have stayed. That she knew beyond a doubt.

So in essence, her mind and body had known about the extent of his feelings for her without having to be told with words. His actions had spoken loudly enough for her to know without knowing.

If that made sense.

At all.

But what if he _did _remember having said it? And what if he remembered her darting from the room before returning his words with her own? And what if he said the very same thing the next time he saw her? What then? Could she answer with the same, truthfully?

Of course not. It had only been two months! People do not fall in love in two months. Especially not people like Hermione.

It had taken her years to admit to herself that she was in love with Ron; years.

Not that it had amounted to much in the end aside from a boatload of teenage heartbreak and drama, but that was all in the past now.

Eventually Hermione managed to convince her body to get up and go down to the library, treading new steps down to her familiar haunt. When she passed through the doors into the cavernous room, just enough of her worries melted away for her to feel a fraction of the awe she had felt upon her first visit here seven years ago, give or take a few months.

Madam Pince gave her a large smile upon spotting her near the front desk and the two shared pleasantries, the librarian assuring her that her presence was of course welcome and should she desire anything to please let her know. Hermione thanked her graciously and began to tread her favourite path through the stacks of books.

There were pockets and clusters of students there, even on a Sunday, and many of them shot her looks of recognition, and a few even waved. She returned the sentiments with a flush and carried on.

In the weeks that followed, Hermione spent a great deal of time there in the library or requisitioning books to her room. She studied them fiercely and by the time the third week of November had come to a close, she knew the history section like the palm of her hand. Her desk always managed to remain somewhat tidy but it was stacked with notes, old manuscripts sent over by the publishing house, scraps of paper with disjointed thoughts written on and a handful of quills dispersed over everything so that she was never more than 12 inches away from one should a thought strike her.

George had owled her many times in the past 21 days and his missives remained largely unopened, stacked on one of the bookcase shelves. She had read the ones he had sent in the beginning, but she had no idea how to respond to him. She was certain he would be able to tell that she was keeping something from him.

Logically, she knew that silence was no better, but in the whirlwind of starting on the book, it had gotten easier to push the matter to the back of her mind.

By now, after everything that had happened between them, she was used to the very nearly daily flash backs that she had involving him.

George sliding a ring onto her finger in the backyard of the Burrow, chasing him down Diagon Alley like a madwoman, working with him in the backroom and him correcting her wand motions, kisses shared and days celebrated, hugs, laughs, sighs of pleasure, skin. Tautness, slow burning, pressure, heat, cries, shaking and bright explosions behind her eyelids. Blissfully nothing and everything simultaneously.

And love?

On his part, surely.

She had acknowledged that she had felt cared for and treasured, of course. The way he had held her, his forehead resting against hers, the look in his eyes just before they glazed over and the shuddering breath he released after.

He had taken great care to make sure she had enjoyed herself during their first time together, and she knew from listening to other girls talk that one was not always lucky enough to have that liberty.

Stretching, Hermione opened her eyes and gazed up the carved stone ceiling of her bedroom, longing to roll over and see George as she had done that morning. Hair all messy, cheeks coloured with warmth, chest out for her to admire and snuggling her tight in the depths of the blankets.

It was Saturday, and she would likely spend the majority of her day after breakfast in her rooms working. She tried to stay away from the Library during the weekends for there were usually more students there to distract her from her goals. She pulled herself from the warm bed and shuffled into the cool bathroom to clean up for the day before setting off down to the Great Hall for some breakfast.

The corridors near her quarters were usually pretty quiet as no common rooms were strictly nearby. The hall that her room entrance was in was lined with large windows on the other wide, usually spilling bright light in to flood the area and Hermione trotted in her flats down the expanse of carpeted hall and descended using a small circular staircase into an adjoining corridor that would quickly take her down to the Entrance Hall. The closer she got to the Great Hall, the more students she found milling around and as usual, many of them gave her friendly smiles or waves while a small fraction ignored her entirely, too wrapped up in their teenage troubles to notice her there.

Now that the school was repaired and classes had resumed in September, the aftermath of the Second Wizarding War was not as plainly evident unless you took into consideration the behaviour of the students.

In the years Hermione had spent at Hogwarts, there had always been an obvious divide among the houses, even between Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Not all the time, and not always clear, but they were there, especially when those three houses dealt with Slytherin. That was just about the only time there was an evident collective agreement amongst students of different houses; a united front against Slytherin.

Now, things had changed. It was not uncommon to find a grouping of Ravenclaws at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, or a few of the same green-toting students laughing with some Gryffindors. Students walking down the corridors to class were increasingly more likely to be a healthy mix of the four houses than any one dominantly.

That realization had been one of the most powerful for Hermione.

She had fought for this.

With blood and sweat and tears, she had fought for this.

Now if only the rest of the wizarding world would follow in the footsteps of the children and embrace their differences, instead of separate in spite of them.

Students milled about in the Great Hall, laughter amongst them and between tables commonplace. Hermione smiled and greeted a few of the early risers on her way up to the High Table, skirting around it surely and settling in her usual seat at the end of the table on the right. A hot cup of tea appeared without a word from her as she tucked her feet under her chair. Happily she added honey and by the time she had taken her first scalding sip, her plate was full of scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes and bacon with a side of toast. After she had eaten quietly for a few minutes, pondering what to start with after she returned to her rooms, the post arrived and Hermione was surprised to find a letter from Ginny.

_'Hermione,_

_I know something weird has been going on, because you barely respond to my letters. I'm positive it has something to do with George; he's missed every dinner since you left and even when I corner him, he won't tell me what's wrong._

_Even Fred won't give me any information._

_Fred! The man who can't keep his mouth shut for trying._

_Hermione, we're all worried about you. I haven't told mum and dad but they know something is up and Fred can only make so many excuses for George's absence before mum storms the flat looking for him and tries to fix whatever's wrong herself._

_Please come to dinner tomorrow. We have to get our dresses fitted and mum is pestering me more by the day._

_Hopefully, you'll tell me then what's wrong._

_Always,_

_Ginny'_

Hermione's heart sunk. She missed Ginny, and home, and most of all George. She knew that things would be harder after everything, but it was much harder than she had thought it would be. Just like the time she had cut herself off from him after their misunderstanding on their way home from bowling and dinner, Hermione felt a longing to be near him and it just wasn't a wise idea with the thoughts floating around in her head. Besides, she had to concentrate on her job.

"Ms. Granger," Headmistress McGonagall appeared quietly at her side and Hermione looked up quickly.

"Yes?"

"You have a visitor."

"I... what?" Hermione had not had any visitors while she had been at the castle and she hadn't been expecting one at all.

"A visitor. They're waiting for you in your rooms, my dear," McGonagall raised her eyebrows and Hermione nodded, still confused. "You may want to hurry."

Hermione pushed back her chair and hurried from the Hall, worried about who would be here to see her with no warning. She rushed faster once she was out into the Entrance Hall and retraced her steps back up to the Seventh Corridor, heart racing and lungs heaving by the time she had climbed seven flights of stairs and sped around the corner. Gasping the password to the portrait, it swung open and Hermione hesitantly glanced around into her quarters.

There, sitting on one of the squishy chairs by the fireplace, knees jiggling impatiently, was George Weasley.

Hermione took a deep breath and stepped into the room, the sound of the portrait shutting behind her attracting his attention to her still form just a few steps from the door. He started, silent for a moment.

"Oh, you're alive," he stated simply and remained motionless for a few more moments before standing. "That's all I wanted to know." He started making his way to the door and made to pass around her.

"George, I -"

"Forgot to reply to my owls, every single one of them?" He stopped with his hand on the back of the portrait, ready to push it open.

"I suppose I deserve that. I'm sorry," Hermione took a tiny step closer to him and he still didn't look up at meet her gaze. "I'm sorry for not writing you back, really. I just -"

"Is there any ending to that sentence that would make it seem reasonable?"

Hermione sighed heavily and made to reach for his sleeve.

"No. I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you... why did you just leave?" he asked, raising his eyes slowly, lingering on her shoulder.

"I had to come here, it was November 1st," she uttered quietly.

"You know that's not what I mean," he pressed. "I mean why did you leave with no note, no letters, nothing. You just left me to wake up to an empty bed."

"I... got... busy - that's no excuse, you're _right_ George, I know you are -"

"There's really no other reason that you didn't think I'd want to hear from you, that I'd _need_ to hear from you?" he met her eyes and all at once she knew without a doubt that he loved her and she had failed to take that into account when she had decided to avoid his letters until she had worked things out for herself.

His clothing was a bit rumpled and he had scruff on his cheeks, but the biggest change were the bags under his eyes, dark half-moons.

"I'm sorry, it just became easy, with work..."

"Well, it wasn't easy for _me_, Hermione! I know that night meant more to me than to you but I still have feelings! You can't just -" he stopped abruptly and took a deep breath to calm himself, his voice having been rising just enough for her to know she had never heard him quite like this. "Sorry. I shouldn't raise my voice."

"It's - it's alright, I know you're upset and it's all my fault. I'm so sorry, and I know it was stupid. You said before to make sure we communicate and I told you to tell me when I'm being unreasonable and I am. I deserve to know it," she rushed, just thankful he was looking at her again.

He was silent and he regarded her desperate expression with a solemn one. Hermione's eyes flicked back and forth between his, looking for any clue as to what would be the best thing to say.

Did she tell him about what he said and how it had scared her or did she keep it to herself?

_Honesty._

He had said honesty.

"I kissed you goodbye and I was just about to leave and you said '_byeloveyou_'," she threw it to the wind, looking down at the worn carpet of the entrance and kept her gaze there until he finally moved with a sigh. She felt his hand on her upper arm, and then his other hand, and then he was standing in front of her fully and waiting for her to look at him again.

"I'm sorry if you weren't ready to hear it, but it's true," he voiced quietly. "And I won't stand here and tell you it was a slip of the tongue or a mistake or that I say that to everyone who talks to me when I sleep, because none of that is true and I can't lie about this."

Hermione felt herself nodding minutely.

"I'm not - I'm not rushing you. I don't even remember you kissing me or saying goodbye and I don't remember saying that and I didn't plan on telling you until I thought you would be okay with it," he continued. "So don't feel like you have to say it back. In fact, don't. Don't say it back until you're absolutely sure you mean it for your own reasons."

She looked at him again finally and she saw that he was telling the truth and she could tell that he would not push her into this. He would probably not even say it again until _she _did, if she ever did. And that was a relief.

She would not be able to figure herself out if he was going to make a habit of telling her he loved her.

"Okay," she breathed. "I'm sor-"

He cut her off with a kiss, a searing one that immediately overwhelmed her senses. When his tongue slid along her lip and she opened her mouth for him she was instantly reminded of the last time he had pried her open willingly while standing at his bedroom door.

"Stop apologizing," he told her between ardent kisses, covering her cheeks with them. "I think I'm probably going to start taking your clothes off, so if you don't want that you should tell me right now." His lips latched onto hers again and she laughed against him, the familiar joy of being around him spreading back into place inside her.

"You think?" she asked, giggling breathlessly when he wrenched her sweater over her head.

"It's just this feeling I have," he growled. "It's rather imminent. Unavoidable, even."

They began stumbling slowly in the general direction of the bedroom, tripping over carpet edges, bumping into tables, smacking elbows into doorframes with a hiss, shedding clothing hastily as they went. By the time they made it to the four-poster, Hermione was just as frantic as he was, kissing his heated skin and pulling him tightly against her. Before long she was leaning over him and they were both fumbling to line him up properly, laughing breaths and glances punctuating the feverish need to be closer to each other.

George's large hand was grasping her hip and the other was on the opposite thigh when she sat up straighter and settled her weight on him slowly. All of their scrambling slowed as she lowered herself down, adjusting to his girth with a ragged gasp. George was looking up at her and his hands were gripping her tightly as self-restraint. When Hermione settled entirely on him they both gasped out and laughed, the fact that they could see each other so clearly in stark contrast to last time they had been naked in a bed together.

Hermione lifted up and settled back against him and from the moment his hips flexed to meet hers, the insistent arousal started to creep back in. She leant forward and planted her palm in the mattress by his ear and he caught her off guard by pinning her hips down and thrusting quickly into her with a gritty growl.

"I thought," he grated out, "that I'd never get - to do this - again - _unngh_."

"Ha," Hermione laughed, her body hot and the beginnings of moisture forming between her shoulder blades but she pushed through the sensation and ground down against George hard.

"Holy -" her lips silenced him and he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, holding her still and rising up to meet her. Hermione's head dropped into the hollow between his neck and shoulder and incoherent mumbling fell from her lips. "What's that, love?"

"Feels so good," she repeated breathlessly and he half-chuckled half-groaned when she pushed herself up again. She nearly tipped backwards at the rush of the sensation change and she would have if George hadn't have held her hips to him again. Once she was sure she wasn't about to fall, she began to purposely lean back as he continued pushing up and inched her hands backwards on his thighs towards his knees.

She saw stars. Whatever she had done and whatever he was in the middle of doing was setting her nerves crackling and she began to meet him thrust for uneven thrust. He was hitting some magical part inside of her that left no time to contemplate before she felt a fluttering start.

"George, it's - _ahhhh_-"

"Go for it, love," he panted out, continuing the pace between them and Hermione dropped her head back, letting the flutters grow and intensify until she cried out to the ceiling moments later. George let her ride it out, rapidity holding steady. He faltered only to pull her chest down flush to his and roll them over, resuming his swift clip. George was teetering on the verge of completion and on instinct, Hermione reached up to tug firmly on the ginger hair flooping gently at the crown of his head.

_"Hermione-"_

That did it for George. His hips snapped to hers tightly and he emptied into her shakily, calling her name multiple times until he slowed and stilled against her.

"I did tell you before that you were amazing, yeah?" he mumbled, touching his forehead to hers briefly before pulling out of her and settling beside her. She watched as he squeezed his eyes shut and blinked a few times, sighing contentedly and curling an arm up to rest his head back on comfortably.

"You did, yes," she grinned, body swiftly cooling now that she had reached Earth again. Hermione reached across to lay a hand on his rapidly rising and falling chest, feeling his heartbeat race under her fingertips. "George, I want you to know I'm sorry. For everything."

"I know," he tipped his head limply to look at her. "I know. Please just talk to me next time. Please. I don't know how else to say it so that it's easier for you to understand. You see, I can be an idiot a fair amount of the time, and I need you to tell me what's wrong. Or I can't fix it. And I _will_ fix it, whatever it is, as best I can. But you have _got_ to help me out."

"I can do that," she grinned lazily. "I can do that."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: A shorter chapter since the last one was the longest chapter so far. **

**A big thank you to everyone, readers and reviewers alike. Every single one of you offered up support and reassured me I hadn't ruined anything at all with the end of the last chapter. **

**You'll also notice that time will start to pass a little more quickly; in this chapter we sped through three weeks of November and it's almost December for our favourite couple. As a side note, I actually consult a calendar of 1998 and keep the date listed in all my drafts so that I don't confuse myself about how far along in any given month we are. **

**We've a wedding coming up and things are going to get hectic, so stay tuned.**

**Leave another review! Do you think Hermione is finally going to get the hang of this 'sharing instead of burrowing yourself away' idea any time soon?**

**Until next time.**

**Cheers!**

**(Words I Couldn't Say - Leighton Meester)**


	23. Chapter 23

"Alright, spill."

Ginny was helping Hermione into her dress and slowly buttoning up the back. Hermione was balanced on the same kitchen stepping stool that Harry had used for his speech to the crowd of people on Halloween and she was trying to tie her hair back to keep out of Molly's way.

"What's there to tell? Everything's fine now," Hermione commented lightly, hoping against better judgement that Ginny would not force her to tell her why she had been avoiding her brother for three weeks and why, all of a sudden, it was better.

"_Now_, maybe. But not for the majority of November. What happened? I thought you guys were past this after last time," Ginny continued with the buttons.

"I was busy working!"

Ginny sent a hard look over Hermione's shoulder at her reflection in the mirror and Hermione sighed.

"Do I have to tell you this _now? _Your mum will be in here any second," she stressed.

"Well, then you'd best tell me quick then, hadn't you?" Ginny showed no remorse.

"I - well, I was busy working and I wasn't sure what to say to him," she answered, knowing before she had even finished the sentence that Ginny would not be satisfied with that.

"About what? Do I really have to pry this out of you forcefully? Because I will, you know," the redhead muttered threateningly.

"I -" Hermione started, "He - he told me he loved me, and it caught me off guard."

"He _what?_ _When?_" Ginny pulled back and ceased her fiddling.

"When I left the flat for Hogwarts on Sunday morning, after Halloween," Hermione screwed up her face in a grimace, afraid to look at Ginny in the mirror. Ginny didn't make a sound and Hermione inched her eyelids open, meeting her eyes tentatively.

"Does that mean what I think it means?" she grinned.

"Yes."

"_Finally_, it took you two long enough," she began on the buttons again with a happy head bob.

"Why does this make you so _happy_ to know?" Hermione relaxed.

"It makes me happy because you are my _friend_ and I am living vicariously through you. I ignore the fact it's with my brother, for the _most _part, quite well," she laughed under her breath.

"What have you got to live vicariously through _anyone_ for? You've got Harry, who has his own house that you two can sneak off to. What do you need _me _for?" Hermione questioned, rolling her eyes.

"Well, if mum would stop finding every excuse to keep me here, or both of us here, so that she can _keep _us from sneaking off, that might be true. But as it is..." Ginny shook her head. "But back to the matter at hand; what did he _say_?"

"'_Mmmbyeloveyou_'," Hermione tried her best to mimic his sleepy tone. "He was basically asleep, and so he didn't remember saying it. That's why I couldn't talk to him; I didn't know what to say! Because I - well. I didn't know if he remembered saying it until after I told him what he had said. It's a bit confusing I guess -"

"Not really. Just the part where you didn't talk to him for _three _weeks," Ginny shook her head. "Even if he didn't mean to say anything, which judging by the situation he didn't, the fact was that you _knew_ he felt that way. Why would you just _stop_ talking to him? Imagine; he finally gets into your pants and you start ignoring him!"

"I _know_," Hermione let out exasperatedly. "I felt really bad when I realized what I'd done. No wonder he was so upset, I didn't blame him."

"So how did everything work itself out? Not by your doing, I bet," Ginny stepped back and surveyed Hermione.

"No, I didn't do anything. He just showed up at the castle and McGonagall told me at breakfast that I had a visitor. I went up and he was just going to leave after seeing me until we started talking. And then..." Hermione flushed and shook her head slightly.

"_And then..._" Ginny wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and Hermione laughed.

"Yes, and then that."

"So where is he now?" she perched on her bed, looking up at her friend.

"He's looking for suits with Fred," Hermione answered, turning to survey herself again.

"So did he stay the night?" Ginny pressed.

"No," Hermione answered.

"So mashing body parts together and calling out to the powers that be is acceptable but actually _sleeping _in the same bed is not?"

"_No_," she laughed. "He had to go eventually; it was a Saturday. He couldn't just leave the shop to Fred and Ron. Besides," Hermione met her eyes again in the mirror, "McGonagall knows who's on the grounds at all times; it would be weird!"

"Hermione," Ginny paused, her chin thoughtfully balanced in her hand, arm set on her knee, "do you think you might love him back, a little? It's just - well, would you really sleep with someone you didn't _really_ like?"

"I do _really_ like him, I know that. I just don't think it's possible to _love_ someone after only three months," she pondered aloud.

"Do you think you might eventually?" she tiptoed.

"I think it's quite probable," Hermione laughed lightly.

"Are you ready in there?" Mrs. Weasley's voice floated through the door.

"Yes!" the two girls called and the door opened to admit the matriarch whose face was the picture of glee at the sight of Hermione in a white dress.

"Oh, my girl, you look so beautiful!" she reached up to pat Hermione's cheek excitedly before standing back to cast a critical eye at the dress itself. "We ought to take it in a bit at the waist, surely. It's a bit loose there. What else should we be doing?"

"Here's the pictures, mum," Ginny handed Molly the magazine rip outs that the boutique lady had also seen and she explained each of the points Hermione was keen on.

After a relatively short amount of time, during which there were plenty of _'a bit longer'_s and _'more like this'_s to be heard, Hermione was satisfied with the fit of the dress and Molly and Ginny helped her out of it carefully, delicately hanging it back up in Ginny's closet.

It was Ginny's turn next and she zipped up her own dress, explaining to her mother what they had agreed on. Hermione watched on quietly, pondering what Ginny had said about loving George.

To some degree, Hermione had to admit, she _was _right. Hermione wouldn't have sex with someone she wasn't extremely fond of, but it was more than that. It was trust. She must trust George more than she had thought, because her mind had never had any problems on that first night with letting him take her clothes off.

Was it possible that without even knowing it, she had begun to fall in love with George Weasley?

"Like this, Hermione?" Ginny hailed her friend out of her thoughts. The dress was the same kind of lace overlay as Hermione's but much different in construction; Ginny's hit her high on the knee and was strapless, completely different to Hermione's gown. Hermione handed Molly a sprig of privet berries from the florist so that the woman could use it as a guide for changing the colour. Soon, Ginny was standing on the stepping stool in the exact dress she had been imagining.

"Thank you so much, Molly, it's really beautiful. They both are!" Hermione hugged her almost-mother-in-law and the woman flapped her hands, flattered.

After Ginny's dress had joined Hermione's back in the closet, she spent the afternoon helping Ginny practice for her exams in the first week of December. All the hard work had paid off and Ginny was less than two weeks away from completing her seventh year, provided she passed. In Hermione's opinion, she didn't have much to be worried about.

In the days leading up to Ginny's exams, Hermione spent all of her time at the castle aside from Sunday dinners.

Both George and Hermione had agreed that they would be too busy to spend a whole lot of time together; George would be busy holding down the fort at the shop, the busy season in full swing, and Hermione had decided to work as much as she possibly could before Christmas and the wedding so that she could relax and enjoy the holidays. Hermione and George had also planned to stay at the cabin for a week or so following the wedding as a sort of honeymoon. By general consensus they agreed that because of the book deal, and training Ron to work at the store, they were better off delaying any sort of trip they might want to take until the following year, perhaps for their first anniversary, if they were so inclined.

* * *

><p>The first Sunday after Ginny's exams, Hermione and George had agreed that time was running out, and they made arrangements to go find wedding bands before it was too late. Hermione padded down to the Great Hall quietly, taking the long way down through the castle.<p>

Christmas was in full swing at Hogwarts and Hermione was enjoying every minute of it. Swags of evergreen donned the bannisters and holly seemed to be over every doorway in sight. The smell of the outdoors and pine was refreshing, the crispness of the air carrying it well. Her nights were spent watching the snow settle over the castle and its grounds in between flipping through reference books, annotating and expanding Bathilda Bagshot's last version of _Hogwarts, A History_ and jotting down notes for future sections she had yet to write. The draftiness of the old castle meant that she spent a great deal of time bundled up in her quarters or in a warm part of the library.

The students were just as lively as usual, if not more so. The Christmas break was approaching nearer with every passing day, and the energy and excitement levels reached a new high every morning.

Hermione crossed through the Entrance Hall, walking by a student with an irritated look about them and a bundle of mistletoe following after them, and she passed through the threshold decked in holly. The Enchanted Ceiling was always an awe-inspiring sight, but for some reason when it as snowing outside, it was the most entrancing thing. The snow fell from the vaulted ceiling softly, drifting down and disappearing before reaching eye-level.

Hermione ate slowly, pondering the day ahead. George was going to meet her in Hogsmeade and the two of them would apparate to one of the many jewellers in London and start looking. George would be very easy; if he saw something that struck his fancy, that was about it. For Hermione though, things would be a bit more complicated because of the ring she already had.

Already dressed for leaving, Hermione swung her bag over her shoulder and set off after she had finished her tea. The weather was cold and the snow had stopped falling for the time being while she made her way down the hill and out past the gates, and then the train station. As she came around the curve in High Street she saw him immediately.

George was standing in front of Honeydukes with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets and an old Gryffindor Quidditch Team toque covering his ears. He was gazing into the front window display at all the sweets and chocolate when she stepped up beside him and threaded her arm through his.

"Hello, love," he jumped a bit but turned a large smile on her immediately.

"Hello," she grinned back, rising on her toes to place a kiss on his lips soundly.

"Ready to go?"

They turned and started down the street. When they arrived at the jewellers, bundled with rosy cheeks from the cold, they browsed for something for George first.

"Feels surreal, doesn't it?" he mumbled as they walked along the glass counters surveying the velvet ring holders closely.

"Mhm," Hermione nodded gently, pulling her mittens off and shoving them in her coat pocket. "About as surreal as having your mum make alterations on a wedding dress. For _me_."

George laughed under his breath belatedly and Hermione looked up from the counter. The two paused and Hermione reached up to brush some ginger hair off to the side of his forehead.

"How about that one?" she looked back down and gestured. George followed her gaze.

"Too square," he shook his head and they moved down the display.

"This one?"

"Too round."

"Have you ever heard of the tale of Goldilocks?" Hermione muttered with a small smile. "What _do_ you like then?"

"Something in the middle, obviously," he laughed and bumped her shoulder with his arm.

"Alright mister, you can just fend for yourself then," Hermione cocked her hip and made to walk to the other side of the small shop but George caught her hand.

"Don't even think about it," he smirked, pulling her back to his side. "Why don't you tell me the tale of Goldilocks instead?"

"Goldilocks is a little blonde girl who stumbles across a cabin in the woods and goes inside because she's tired and hungry. Three bears live in the cabin - a wee bear, a middle-sized bear, and a huge bear..." George watched her intently as she explained the muggle children's tale. They continued down the displays after she was done absently, George asking perplexed questions about the story with Hermione chuckling at them.

"What do you think of that one?" George pointed.

"Isn't this really more your choice? Since you'll be the one wearing it?" Hermione laughed lightly, looking at the one he was motioning to.

"Sure, but you'll be looking at it for, oh I don't know, possibly the rest of your life. So you should like it too," George reasoned and Hermione nodded.

"I suppose. It's nice," Hermione nodded.

They motioned a salesperson over to unlock the case to get a better look. It was silver with a slight rounding to the shiny surface and it had a tiny milgrain around the edges. Simple, streamlined, just enough detail to qualify as not plain, but little enough that it wouldn't look out of place on his hand in any situation. George was happy with that one, and they discussed the concept of getting a plain band that would fit snuggly to her marquis-shaped stone. The salesman confirmed they could do it but they would need to have her ring to fit it properly.

Hermione remembered when the ring George had given her at the beginning of September had felt weird on her hand, foreign, and now when she was twisting it from its snug placement, it felt even odder. She realized she had been wearing it for three months already and wondered where the time had gone.

After they had paid and left, they wandered down the London street together, debating whether or not they should go back to the Burrow as it was Sunday or find something else to do. Hermione kept rubbing the finger where the ring had sat absent-mindedly and George scooped up her hand quickly after he noticed. They would be able to come back in a few days time to pick both of them up, but until then, Hermione would be ringless.

* * *

><p>That week passed just the same as the others; Hermione remained at the castle working from morning to night and George did the same at the shop because business was booming. They saw each other as much as they could, usually with George visiting the castle in the evenings. Hermione would have dinner for two brought to her rooms and they would have an hour or two of time together before either Hermione fell asleep on George or George would have to force himself to leave in order to be up early for the next day.<p>

Hermione spent a lot of time between seeing him pondering in even more depth her feelings for him and every time he left, the answer became more and more obvious.

She loved George Weasley.

Perhaps not as much as he loved her, considering his crush had had _much_ more time to develop and he had suffered through years of intermittent pining for her.

But she did love him. Every time he kissed her goodbye, or held her hand, or played with her hair casually in the middle of a conversation, while lying on her sofa in front of a roaring fire, she felt herself slip a little more in love him. And she had surprised herself to find that not only did she not start freaking out about her feelings again, she actually enjoyed seeing her feelings progress over time.

She felt no pressure to tell him before she was ready, as he had said. And so she took an accurate stock of them when she felt them bubbling under the surface. How she had not seen her first steps down this slippery slope, she couldn't be sure; it likely had to do with avoiding him for three weeks. All her fault. If she had just remained calm and assessed her emotions then, maybe she would have realized sooner.

Nevertheless, Hermione was enjoying the feeling now, like sinking into a hot bathtub that stings a little at first but then lends its warmth to every single part of you after you adjust to it, in a way nothing else can.

George and Hermione had made plans to spend the Friday after their ring trip doing their Christmas shopping; they had to go pick up the finished rings and then set about purchasing gifts for their friends and family. It was exactly two weeks before Christmas and they knew the day was going to be crazy with all the other holiday shoppers.

Armed against the cold, Hermione set off down to Hogsmeade and left to meet George. When she arrived outside the shop, she quickly brushed the remaining snow from the little wizarding village off her tights and coat; the muggles would probably wonder where it had come from considering it was not snowing in London at the moment.

"Here I am, sorry I'm late!" Hermione approached him as he was looking at something in a small velvet box.

"Oh, hey, love. Here they are," he handed the box to her and she cracked it herself to see the rings. Just as they had asked, smooth and silver, perfect. She grinned up at him and then plucked the ring he had given her out of it to replace on her finger after five days off. The jewellers had polished it up for her and it gleamed in the light from the hanging chandelier. Hermione closed the box and reached over to slip it into George's inner coat pocket, zipping him up after with a pat to the chest.

"Where to, Granger?" he asked as he held the door open for her, following her through slowly. "A skirt? Bit daring for a winter's day, don't you think?"

"With opaque winter tights? Yes, I'm sure," Hermione scoffed, looking over her shoulder and swaying her hips in emphasis.

"I'm not complaining! You have fantastic legs. You go ahead and wear skirts every day if you like," he winked at her and they clasped hands, continuing down the street.

Hermione and George came up with a game plan for shopping and started in muggle London, making their way to Diagon Alley and trying desperately not to run into anyone they might be toting gifts for along the way. They stopped for lunch and to warm up in a little cafe with hot apple cider before tackling any last places they needed to go and finished up with Hogsmeade so that Hermione could return to the castle after.

It was snowing thickly by the time they left The Three Broomsticks with a bottle of aged mead for Mr. Weasley from Hermione and George insisted on accompanying her up the slippery hill and inside the castle.

"Now, you listen here," he started with the shake of a gloved finger, just before she gave in, "you are my fiancé, and it is my job to keep you from slipping and making an arse of yourself. Unless I've planned it as part of a future prank, in which case I will pre-emptively apologize now."

The two slipped and stumbled up the icy hill, laughing and clutching to each other perhaps more than was necessary. Hermione was positive that she had prevented George from falling arse over teakettle far more than he had managed to help her, but she was glad he had decided to come up to the castle either way. The one time she did almost tip backwards, George caught her capably and set her right with an almost undetectable grope of her behind. She wasn't even sure he had done it until he gave her a devilishly handsome look that confirmed any suspicions she might have had with a furious blush.

When they finally managed to make it up past the students frolicking in the snow outside the front entrance, the castle was only marginally more warm than the winter wonderland outside. George and Hermione stomped snow out of their boots and scurried up to the seventh floor where it would be warmer.

George bore the majority of their shopping bags and Hermione let him in to her rooms, letting him dump them on the sofa and passing him to set hers on her desk.

"Well, I'm glad we managed to get all that done tod -" Hermione started, pulling off her toque and turning around to find George right behind her, shedding his jacket. "Merlin, you're going to give me a heart attack."

"That's unfortunate because I think you may want to stick around for this," he stated cryptically and Hermione frowned as he stepped closer.

"What do you mean?"

He shushed her and smirked darkly, reaching around her to grasp her hips and set her on the very edge of her desk firmly.

"You're going to want to stay right there," he avoided her question, and she stilled at the look in his eye as he slipped the wooden buttons of her grey wool coat loose idly. "I've been thinking about this _all _day, love." Hermione felt a familiar tingly feeling unfurl along her skin as he opened the jacket and pushed it to either side of her.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't answer; he just spread his fingers down over her hips and gripped the material of her skirt, rucking it up higher and exposing more tight-clad thigh. Eyes boring into hers, he squatted down on his haunches and pulled her boots from her feet smoothly, dropping them over his shoulder.

"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, of course," she breathed, having a tiny inkling as to what he may be up to.

"Good," he reached between her tights and skirt to curl his fingers over the top band and peel it down over her hips and thighs. His palms were warm against her still-cool legs and she shivered as he ran them down over her skin, rolling the tights down to her ankles and off over her feet. George dropped his knees gently to the ground and shuffled up to her, pushing her knees apart and settling between them.

"George -"

"I did say 'shush' already, did I not?"

"Not technic - _oh my god_ -"

The muggle-ism slipped out unhindered when George raised a hand to run a thumb over her and follow directly after it with his tongue. He paid almost no attention to the fact that her body was twitching under his attentions and used both hands to spread her open for him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are gorgeous _all over_?" he asked lightly and she blushed crimson, her coat and sweater holding the heat to her skin.

"Just you," she said breathlessly, trying to keep her legs working properly to keep her up.

"That's unfortunate," he answered before pulling her thighs up to rest on his shoulders and leaning forward again. Hermione felt his tongue run up and down her, lightly probing and she tried very hard to breathe normally. The sensations were overwhelming and she had caught herself freezing on more than one occasion; the last thing she wanted was to pass out from lack of oxygen at this point, not when something so fantastic was pulling her incessantly towards orgasm.

"_G-George_ -" she stuttered in anticipation, feeling a bubble form and grow low in her belly.

"Mhm?" he hummed from between her legs and she dropped her head back, closing her eyes. George wrapped his arms around her thighs and swirled the tip of his tongue deliciously, Hermione's eyes rolling back in pleasure. Her arms were starting to shake from holding herself up under George's ministrations and she dropped her elbows to the worktop, leaning farther back. One of George's arms let her leg go and she barely noticed until he slid a finger into her slowly, crooking it to rub against a particular spot inside of her. Combined with the mind-numbing feeling of George's tongue sliding back and forth over her bundle of nerves, Hermione felt her legs start to shake on his shoulders. She cried out as he pulled back completely, the loss of his lips and hands on her startling by comparison to his previous actions.

"What are you -"

He stood up and pulled her up off the desktop gently and tugged her coat from her arms quickly, finishing his move by turning her around to face the dark windows after giving her a deep kiss.

"Elbows on the desk, love, if you don't mind," he voiced, sounding more like he was asking her if she wanted a cup of tea than unzipping his jeans and drawing her skirt up higher over her hips as she followed his directions. "Perfect, thanks."

She heard the laughter in his voice and the clink of his belt buckle just before he stepped up flush to her and pressed into her from behind slowly, a long drawn out sigh of pleasure sneaking out from between his lips. Hermione let out a frustrated groan as he eased into her entirely and grasped her bare hips in his hands.

"Cor, love, you are _so tight_," he heaved a breath and pulled out again, fingers digging into her flesh. Hermione moaned at his words and pushed back against him, palms flat on her desk. The papers she had stacked neatly earlier were scattered over the surface and she found she didn't even care as long as he kept sliding in and out of her at the swift pace he was setting.

He kept going, thankfully, and he sped up gradually, Hermione enjoying the feeling of his jeans on the back of her thighs as he pushed up against her. George released her hips and leant forward over her lower back, pushing her firmly against the edge of her desk with a groan. Hermione was moaning breathlessly, climbing higher and higher, closer to the finish line with every slap of his skin on her behind.

"_George -_"

His breath was growing ragged in her ear as he leaned closer over her, hips unrelenting against hers.

"Hermione?" he laughed windedly, sliding his hand under her and encircling her waist with one of his arms, his other hand creeping around her hips. She felt his fingers slip against her wetness and circle around her clitoris gently.

"I'm - I'm going to -"

"I know," he grunted lowly, quickening his clip until he felt her start to contract around him with a loud cry. Tendrils of hair drifted about her face having fallen from her bun over the course of George's strenuous efforts and she shook violently as he hauled her back against himself. He followed after her quickly, spilling into her with a groan and a few last jerky thrusts.

They both remained still in the silence after, taking a moment to catch their breath before George pulled out and tugged her up with him. Hermione's eyes were half closed when he turned her around and kissed her soundly, cheeks pink from both exertion and orgasm.

"Wow," she whispered absently.

"Yeah," George nodded, holding her loosely and pressing his lips to her forehead. "Wow."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes? I think yes.**

**White dresses, realizations about love, Christmas shopping, desk sex. **

**Can't go wrong with that, right?**

**Happy Birthday to devoted reader AubreenaGreen. I made it happen, girl!**

**Leave a review!**

**Until next time.**

**Happy Sunday!**


	24. Chapter 24

A week before Christmas found Hermione scrambling to finish up some last edits to Bathilda Bagshot's manuscript from her last edition of _Hogwarts, A History_; the publishers had sent back her last version for final review and she was trying desperately to get it done and sent by the time they closed on the Friday one week before Christmas. The publishers would only be open for a few days next week and Hermione was thinking that she might take some time to go stay at the cabin, or the Burrow or with George. She had been working herself so hard over the last month and half, and even harder in the last week or so to get it done before the holidays, that she figured it was time for a little break.

She would take some work materials with her, regardless, but she wouldn't need to rush or pull her hair out over anything. She could start making outlines for new sections that needed writing and doing preliminary research so that when she returned to the castle after the holidays and the wedding, she could jump right back in with no delay.

The one time she had left the castle to visit George, she had shown up and he had been fast asleep on the couch, shoes still on. The man was just as tired as she was, if not more. He, Fred and Ron were really on fire at the shop, but that did mean that they were beat by the time the store closed every day. It was non-stop chaos, as she understood it. They thrived in that sort of environment, however it was incredibly draining to do it day in and day out.

Hermione had untied his laces delicately, slipped off his shoes and set a fluffy blanket over him to keep him warm through the night before returning to the castle to soak in her tub under a thick layer of bubbles. She had been a little disappointed because she had missed him but what could she do? George was so adorable when he slept, too.

Hermione had been trying and trying to come up with a way to tell him she loved him.

Should she tell him before the wedding?

After?

_During?_

And how? He wasn't leaving any smooth transitions for her to take and forge ahead with. She would have to find a way eventually. The realization that she loved George felt like was burning a hole through her chest from not voicing it to anyone other than herself, particularly him.

Hermione slammed the finished copy shut and jumped up. She was so tired, and it would be perhaps the best thing to just lounge around and enjoy some quiet time not spent hunched over her desk but she absolutely _had_ to deliver this herself, or it wouldn't make it on time.

Hermione very quickly bundled up in her coat and toque, mittens in hand and scarf hanging loose around her neck and snatched up her papers. Her boots thudded down the stone corridors as she made her way towards the staff lounge, where Minerva had informed her there was a fireplace she could use to floo any time she needed; she had chosen not to have her fireplace hooked up for now. Hermione very much did not want to venture out onto the grounds in the half-light and break her ankle by slipping or tripping on the ice outside, so floo it was.

She dashed around the corner and down a flight of stairs, taking them two at a time. It was nearly five; hopefully they didn't decide to leave early for the day. Hermione slipped into the empty staff lounge and made directly across to the fireplace. In a roar of green flames she appeared at George's flat, calling out.

"George?"

No answer. It was dark.

"_George?_"

He wasn't home.

Hermione left through the front door and hopped down the stairs to the shop, customers stepping around her as she emerged onto the ground floor.

"Hermione?" Fred was standing on a stepping ladder and pulling down boxes, handing them to Ron.

"Can't talk, be right back!" she waved and took off for the door.

Diagon Alley was quiet and the sun was beginning to sink low in the sky. Hermione continued to jog up the street and skipped up the steps in front of her publishing house quickly.

"Hello?" she tried the door and it gave under her weight.

"Hello," the receptionist smiled, turning from grabbing her coat from the rack behind her desk. "Oh, Hermione! I think that's the manuscript, yes?" she motioned to the envelope in Hermione's hands.

"Yes, it is! I was hoping you were still here! Is Amelia in?"

"Yes, go on up, she'll be happy to see it in her hands, I know," she motioned up the stairs and Hermione jumped up them lightly. Amelia's office door was standing open and Hermione stuck her nose in.

"Hello, Amelia?"

"Hermione! Come on in," the tall redhead looked up from packing her briefcase momentarily.

"I have the finished manuscript here," she clutched a stitch in her side and grinned, handing it over the editor.

"Fabulous, thank you. You could have brought it next week, you know," Amelia smiled, surveying Hermione's rosy cheeks and ruffled hair.

"I know, I was just planning to start on research next week and wanted to get this done sooner rather than later," Hermione grinned. "I was worried you might have left early," she referenced her rushed entrance.

"Alright, lovely. I'll go over this again, and I should think it'll be ready to go after that since we'll have both been through it twice then," she slipped the package into her case and snapped it closed. "Happy holidays! I'm sure I won't hear from you before they're over, so good luck with the wedding as well," Amelia smiled.

"Thank you," Hermione nodded. "Happy holidays to you too!"

When Hermione left through the front door again, she walked much slower back to the shop. With burning the candle at both ends, she was exhausted. She could feel it creeping back into her limbs as it had done every day this week so far. Hermione could feel a throbbing in the back of her head and she sighed. Perhaps she had taken this thing on too harshly. She clearly needed some rest over the next few weeks.

Between scrambling with the book and anxiously planning and awaiting a wedding and balancing her feelings for George while trying to keep it to herself for the time being, Hermione felt like she had been run over with a bus. She entered back into the twin's shop, the crowd having thinned a little in the last ten minutes.

"Hey Fred," she walked over, dragging her feet tiredly.

"Hey, what was going on?" he asked, looking down at her. "Can I hand you this?"

"Sure," Hermione reached up for the box and Fred set it in her hands. "I was just running a manuscript to my editor before they closed up for the night. Didn't think I'd make it in time."

"Oh, right," he nodded, stepping down slowly. "Are you alright? You look like I feel."

"Yeah, just tired. I've been working non-stop for weeks," Hermione nodded, giving him a small smile. "Though my head is starting to hurt so I should probably get back to the castle and sleep it off. Where's George?" she handed the box back to him.

"He didn't say where he was going, just that he'd be back later," Fred shrugged.

"Oh, okay. Tell him I might come stay at the flat soon? I feel like a break from Hogwarts might be a good idea," she laughed lightly, rubbing her eyes.

"Sure, 'course. And hey," he looked at her seriously, "eat something, will you? You look really pale."

"Gee, thanks Fred," Hermione laughed and Fred rolled his eyes. Hermione's head was starting to get more painful and she hugged him goodbye, heading for the stairs to the flat.

Over seemingly nothing, Hermione stumbled and nearly knocked over another body.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she reached out a hand to keep the person from tipping over and her head went woozy mid-sentence.

"Hermione?" It had thankfully been Lee and he reached for her shoulder as she swayed and dragged a hand over her face.

"I don't feel so good," she said, gripping his arm. She could feel her skin growing clammy and cold and when she opened her eyes, the floor was moving. "Nope, not good."

"Hold on, just a second, I'll help you upstairs," Lee's voice reassured her and she closed her eyes again, head spinning. Lee guided her upstairs with a hand on her shoulder and her elbow and Hermione thanked him profusely as he did so. He let them into George's flat and led her round the corner and down the hall.

"Your room or his?" Lee asked delicately.

"Bathroom," Hermione answered.

"Uh oh," Lee muttered but made sure she made it to the end of the hall alright.

"Thanks Lee," Hermione repeated herself, splashing her face with cool water and taking a deep breath. He watched her closely as she made her way into George's room and set herself on the edge of the bed gently. "Better."

"Okay, why don't you stay here for a bit? George'll be back soon and I'll let him know you're here. You look like you need a good sleep," Lee commented.

"I do," Hermione nodded, not caring to continue with an explanation. Perhaps she had been pushing herself a bit too hard for a bit too long.

"Okay," Lee fixed her with an intent look. "Do you need anything? Water? Tea?"

"Just to not move for a minute," Hermione laid down on her side, and curled her legs up after toeing off her boots with a clunk.

"If George isn't back in half an hour, I'll come check on you again, okay? Or Fred. One of us will," Lee rubbed her shoulder lightly and left quietly, the front door closing softly after him.

In the darkness and the stillness, Hermione gradually started to feel better. She was still exhausted and a bit woozy, but the nausea that had started to rise in her throat had subsided significantly.

Last week she had visited the Hospital Wing for a headache potion and it had been busy with students in various stages of sickness; perhaps she had picked something up while she was there? Or maybe she _was _just overworking herself.

If Hermione thought about it, it was probably the fact that she hadn't slept a full night in weeks and wasn't eating much on a regular basis these days. She was busy with editing, and unless her stomach was loud enough to catch her attention, she wasn't about to leave her work to go eat. Not when if she just finished it quick enough she wouldn't feel guilty about taking some time away to relax over the holiday season.

But maybe, just maybe, she had pushed herself too far.

Fred had said she should eat something.

And food did sound good now that her stomach had settled down.

Hermione chided herself at her realization.

If she didn't eat, her body didn't have fuel to work, so all in all she had done this to herself. She was supposed to be an adult, old enough to take care of herself without someone following after her making sure she ate and slept properly.

Hermione heard footsteps on the stairs and she started to sit up against the pillows.

"Hermione?" George's voice called out in the quiet apartment.

"In here," she called back and heard him make his way back, stopping at the hall closet on the way.

"Hey," he entered a moment later. "Lee said you were feeling like shite. What's wrong?"

"It's silly," Hermione shook her head lightly as he reached to turn on his side table lamp.

"Tell me anyway," he impressed, perching beside her on his bed.

"I got all woozy-headed; it's alright, I'm feeling better now. I need some dinner and a good sleep," Hermione explained.

"And how do you know that's all it is?" George squinted at her.

"Because I haven't eaten yet today and I didn't sleep well last night. Well, all week, but that's besides the point," Hermione stumbled under her gaze.

"That's exactly the point," George shook his head. "I thought you were supposed to be exceptionally smart," he continued, small smile on his face.

"Hey!" Hermione started and George shushed her teasingly.

"I make fantastic toast, would you care for some?" he laughed, wiggling his eyebrows temptingly.

"I could partake in some toast, yes," Hermione felt her stomach grumble.

"Be right back then," he hopped up and rounded into the hallway. "Tea?"

"Yes, please," she called.

Hermione sat and listened to him putter around in the kitchen, the sounds soothing in their own way. She had noticed she had been taking great pleasure in the small things to do with George; the sound of his feet crunching in the snow beside her, the quirk he usually had in his smile, the way his hair stood up oddly after he had spent the day slaving away at the store, his soft leather jacket under her mittened hands.

In the moments she smiled over those things, he sometimes asked her what she was thinking about.

But she couldn't tell him before, because she hadn't known why she was smiling. After her careful consideration, after realizing exactly why she took pleasure in those things, after concluding that she loved him, she didn't know how to say it.

Maybe she would find a way tonight.

Shortly, he came back with a plate of buttered toast and a steaming mug of tea, grinning proudly.

"For you, mademoiselle," he presented the fruits of his labour to her and she thanked him.

Later that night, Hermione returned to the castle through the floo and it was quiet when she arrived back in the staff lounge, and she was thankful for it. She made her way back to her rooms with much less haste than she had left with, surveying the snowy grounds from the cloisters and windows as she trudged up the stairs to the seventh floor.

As soon as she had kicked off her boots and dropped her winter clothes to the couch, Hermione fell into bed and was out in minutes.

* * *

><p>Hermione slept for the longest stretch of time she had taken since the time she had crashed after OWL examinations from exhaustion after being awake for 20 out of 24 hours of every day for weeks beforehand. When she had lazily gotten around to magicking the curtains back in her room from bed, she had gazed out into the dreary grey day and sighed. At least she could slow down a bit now.<p>

Well, sort of.

In just under two weeks time she would be a Mrs.

Ginny was sure to have plenty for them to do in the time leading up to it, plus there was Christmas to think about. Hermione had yet to wrap her gifts and decided that that would be her main goal for the day and then perhaps she would pack some things to take to George's. She could laze about and plan out what she wanted to research when she got back to the castle and it would be at the slowest pace she had seen since before September 1st.

The late morning slipped away in a haze of quiet music form the wireless, breakfast, wrapping paper and ribbon. In the end, Hermione had triumphantly declared the pile of gifts conquered and the breakfast thankfully stomached. George had said to come over any time and to make herself at home. He probably wouldn't be up until later in the day after the shop had closed and he and Lee had stocked up the shelves as much as possible for the following day.

Hermione threw some clothes and work things into her rucksack and called it done. She said goodbye to Crookshanks, and left him to his lazing about on the carpet in front of the fire. She chose to take the brisk walk down to Hogsmeade to stretch her legs a bit and the fresh air continued to help her feel better. Another night or two of solid sleep and a little break would do wonders. To be honest, it was a wonder she hadn't been feeling sicker earlier on, considering.

Hermione arrived at the empty flat and went about setting her things in her room on her desk and putting her clothes away. George would probably be hungry when he got in from work and Hermione went about looking through the kitchen to see what she could find for dinner. Finding nothing that she really wanted, she stepped out to grab some groceries and when George arrived home, he found her singing in the kitchen.

"Someone's feeling better," he commented, dropping a kiss to her temple and she turned to smile up at him. "I'm sorry to run away but I need a shower before anything else."

"Of course," she laughed. "Dinner will probably be ready when you're out."

A simple dinner of chicken with brown rice and steamed veggies was what Hermione had made, thinking perhaps she had better not tempt fate by eating anything that might upset her stomach for another day or two. George cracked the top off a beer and motioned to her.

"No thank you," she shook her head and he took a swig, sighing.

"Whatever you made smells delicious," he said as they settled at the small table that Fred had not taken with him.

"Thank you," Hermione sipped some water.

The two ate with easy conversation between them, discussing the shop and how George was thankful Christmas was almost over and done with. Hermione agreed; she had peeked in earlier to see how they were doing downstairs and it had been a madhouse.

"I could always pop down and help," she suggested lightly.

"No, you have enough on your plate. You need to relax a bit; you're starting to feel better _now_ but you were _not _good last night. No need to bring that on again," he shook his head and pushed his empty plate away, rubbing circles on his belly. "That was fantastic, love, just what I needed."

"You're welcome," she smiled and finished her rice.

When the two fell into bed later that night, George had snuggled up behind her and tucked her hair out of his face, warmth radiating from him and Hermione fell asleep comfortable, happy and full.

* * *

><p>By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, Hermione was certain she had had enough rest to last her a lifetime. George refused to let her help downstairs and left every morning with a grin and returned every night with one in the same.<p>

He seemed quite happy to come home to her waiting in the apartment, surrounded by research and papers or maybe just a book she was reading for leisure. He would always drop a kiss to her temple and ask her how her day had been and how she was feeling, no matter how many times she stated she was better and didn't need fussing over.

"But you still have bags under your eyes and you're still a little pale," he justified. "Maybe you should go see Pomfrey."

"I'm _fine_, George. I feel much better. I just have to keep taking better care of myself. Really. Now how was _your_ day?" she asked from the couch in the living room, covered in a blanket and snuggled where she had been for most of the day.

"Fantastic! Closed tomorrow, Christmas, sleeping in, presents!" George hopped around and did a jig, making Hermione double over in laughter.

"Happy to be done with the season?" she prodded.

"Yes. Made a _killing_ at the shop, but happy to have things slow down a bit. It's the same every year," George fell onto the sofa beside her and laid his head on her thigh. "I'm bushed. Ready to go to Christmas Eve dinner?"

"I need a minute to get ready," she laughed and he lifted his head for her to extract herself from her cocoon of blankets and trot down the hallway.

"Mum's going to try and get us to sleep there, just a heads up. Might want to take some pyjamas if you don't mind staying," he called to her from the couch.

"Do you want to stay there?" she poked her head back around her door jam.

"It makes her happy," George shrugged. "I'd rather sleep here with you next to me, but she doesn't know about that and we won't be telling her any time soon," he laughed.

Hermione laughed and disappeared again, this time packing her rucksack with a few things she would need.

"I'm guessing I'll be bunking with Ginny and not you," she said.

"There's a 100 percent chance of that," he called back in answer. "Too bad because I do so love snuggling your arse first thing in the morning. And all night, too," he conceded as an afterthought.

"I'm sure you can deal with sleeping alone for one night, George."

"I'm sure you'll be changing your tune later, Hermione."

She emerged from her room and shook her head in his direction with a smile.

"Are you ready? Let's go then," Hermione urged him up off the couch and they took the floo over to the Burrow.

George took a deep breath as they stepped out of the fire, inhaling the scent of turkey and pie like it was the only thing that would sustain him.

"I'm pretty sure that between today and mum's turkey, I'll be in a coma by eight. Please don't be mad at me if I conk out at the table," he laughed jokingly.

Hermione laughed and they made their way to the kitchen to see who else was there. Everyone was in the kitchen setting the table with cutlery and dishes of food, and they greeted Hermione and George happily. Christmas carols were playing in the background and Mrs. Weasley was singing and directing the gravy into the boat Mr. Weasley was holding. The kitchen was full of light and laughter and Hermione was given many hugs, embracing her family happily as she passed through to help fold napkins and set out glasses.

When they sat down and pulled the crackers apart, there was a great series of tiny explosions and confetti littered the table and floor.

"Happy Christmas Eve, love," George nudged her shoulder and she giggled as he placed a paper crown on her head and swapped her for her Healer's hat she had gotten in her cracker. Harry had on a set of elf ears and Ginny was tugging on them laughing. Bill was holding Fleur close and the two were grinning like idiots, Fred and Angelina were laughing uproariously at Percy, with Audrey even laughing at him about whatever it was he had done. Ron and Lavender were swapping treats from there crackers and sharing secret glances between them, and Alyssa and Charlie were doing the same.

Molly and Arthur were at either end of the table, completely oblivious to the world around them, looking at each other like they was nothing more in the world they could ask for.

"You think we'll be like them, one day?" Hermione motioned subtly to his parents and he chuckled under his breath.

"Even after all these years and _all_ these kids, and they still couldn't be happier," he commented. "I hope so." He fixed her with a content look and food started making the rounds. Hermione was grateful for turkey and mashed potatoes, things she felt sure wouldn't make her feel like she had a stomach of lead.

She _had _to tell him. Keeping it to herself was starting to physically hurt.

"George, I -"

"Alright, so who's staying tonight?" Molly asked loudly, carrying down the table and most hands raised up. "Excellent, Charlie and Alyssa in Bill and Charlie's old room, the twins in their room, Percy in his, Harry and Ron in Ron's old room, and Hermione and Ginny in Ginny's room." Angelina had to leave to go to her parents after, and Lavender was not staying overnight, as well and Audrey. Bill and Fleur would go back to their own house for the night and come back in the morning.

"So Charlie and Alyssa get to stay together but George and Hermione can't?" Ron asked, confused.

"Alyssa and Charlie have been living together for years," Molly answered, as if that answered every question that he might have.

"Doesn't Hermione..." Ron furrowed his brow and Hermione hoped fervently that he would stop talking, her stomach jumping into her chest as the table grew quiet. Hermione could see the memories of him catching them snogging in the backroom flit behind his eyes, as well as the conclusion he had drawn that they must be sleeping together by now.

"Doesn't Hermione _what,_ Ronald?" Molly had stopped cutting up her carrots to look at her youngest son with a determined look.

"Doesn't she stay at the flat?" he asked tentatively, realizing all too late that he had stumbled into unknown territory, dragging George and Hermione with him.

"I have my own room, Ron," Hermione piped up, hoping to sound casual and convincing.

Ron nodded and opened his mouth in an 'O' of faked sudden realization, and Molly reluctantly dropped the inquisition. When Hermione leaned back, she realized that Arthur was grinning at her and sent her a tiny wink and she laughed under her breath.

"What?" George also sat back and relaxed, both having thought they were about to receive the most embarrassingly public sex talk they had ever heard of anyone ever getting.

"Your dad's a lot sharper than people give him credit for," she whispered and refused to share more, continuing with her supper until she was done.

Egg nog was passed around liberally and Ginny and Hermione sat on the couch talking about what was left to do in the next week before she was to become Mrs. George Weasley. He had his head again in her lap with his feet hanging over the arm of the sofa, and after his egg nog, he was out. Warm and content, he closed his eyes listening to Hermione and Ginny talk.

"You'll never guess, Hermione," Angelina scooted over.

"I'll never guess what?"

"Fred told me that he caught George dancing around the back room to some muggle song, something about 'All I Want for Christmas is You'? Are you familiar with it?" Angelina laughed, clearly recalling her fiancé's impersonation of George dancing to the song.

"Yes," Hermione laughed, "I'm familiar with it. Was he singing too? He likes to sing when he thinks no one's around," she looked down at his sleeping face with a soft smile.

The girls finished their egg nog, insides turning warm from the rum, Angelina with her tea, and looked forward to waking up tomorrow on Christmas morning. Hermione missed her parents but pushed through and savoured the family she had, refusing to taint such a happy day with negative thoughts. Ginny was dozing on the couch beside her, the room was quieter, the fire crackling and the tree twinkling.

Hermione slid out from under George and puttered to the back door, grabbing her coat and toque and donned them with her boots before stepping out the back door into the cold night.

It was pitch black out and the ground twinkled in the light from the house, ice and snow coating everything within sight. It was quiet, a hushed quiet that only ever seemed to happen when snow was falling, and Hermione stepped into the yard. The snowflakes fell gently, tickling her cheeks and snagging in her eyelashes.

The snow compacting under her boots crunched and shifted and she grinned. This was just like her first Daydream Charm -

"Hey," George's voice came from behind her quietly and she looked back over her shoulder to find him blinking sleep out of his eyes and pulling his coat on. He crunched up beside her and pushed his hands into his pockets. "Feeling okay?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Just wanted to see the snow."

They stood in silence for a few minutes and Hermione settled her arm around his waist. This was it. Her stomach flipped and gurgled.

"George," she looked up at him beside her and tipped her forehead to his shoulder as he looked down, eyebrows raised in question. "I love you."

George stared down at her unmoving for a moment, flicking his eyes back and forth between hers, searching for something. He must have seen something there because he turned and leaned down, covering her lips with his warm ones softly and slowly.

"You can't know how much that means to me to hear you say that," he muttered against her temple when he pulled away from the kiss after a few languid moments. The two of them stood there in the gently falling snow, embracing quietly. Hermione wondered where she would be in this moment if it weren't for the law passing and coming into play nearly four months ago.

The thought was both crazy and incomprehensible to her.

There was absolutely no way to know where she would be without the last four months with George.

But the thing was, she didn't _want_ to know. She was happy right here.

"I love you, too."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The wedding is next chapter, people. How did we get here?! I swear I just set out to write a small chapter fic on a marriage law situation and boom. It took 24 chapters to get to the actual marriage part. I did not anticipate it taking so many words.**

**So I haven't written any of the wedding yet, which means throw out any moments you guys might want to see so that I don't miss anything and everyone is pretty happy in the end. Any ideas, people, situations, anything. Let me know.**

**I'd really appreciate feedback on the chapter and as stated above, any suggestions. This'll be a big thing to write.**

**So ****review please****! **

**Until next time.**

**Cheers!**

**(I'd Rather be With You - Joshua Radin)**


	25. Chapter 25

Hermione opened her eyes on Christmas morning to find it snowing thickly outside Ginny's window and she grinned. There was nothing more exciting and quieting at the same time as witnessing a white Christmas. Hermione rather thought it came from wishing so hard for snow on Christmas Day as a child, before she had spent any winters in Scotland at Hogwarts being inundated with flurries for most of December.

Hermione lay still and listened to see if anyone else in the house was awake. She could hear Mrs. Weasley downstairs, so surely there would be more people up already; it wasn't the crack of dawn.

_"...where treetops glisten, and children listen..."_ crooned Celestina Warbeck from downstairs and Hermione quirked a smile. A muggle Christmas song on the Wizarding Wireless. A quick glance at Ginny found her friend's bed empty, and Hermione's smile fell a little. Ginny usually woke Hermione up if she happened to sleep later than the small redhead.

Hermione sat up and gazed at the small pile of gifts at the end of her bed and grinned. She wondered if everyone had already been awake long enough to open the gifts she had gotten them. Ginny's bed had bits of wrapping on it, so she supposed she had slept through her present ripping earlier.

Hermione brushed her hair back into a messy braid and sat up, crossing her legs and pulling her gifts closer. She opened the one from Molly and Arthur first and found a new mittens, scarf and toque set that Mrs. Weasley had cable knit for her. The hat had a large shaggy tassel on top and Hermione laughed, pulling it on. Ginny had gotten her a lovely stationary set with her initials printed at the top the surprise had been to see H.J.W. instead of H.J.G. in a simple calligraphic monogram. Harry and Ron had obviously conferred with Ginny and given her a joint gift of a leather folio, stamped with her future initials in monogram form as well. The two gifts went hand in and Hermione quickly placed the paper pad and matching envelopes and notebook in the leather case. The leather colour matched the briefcase that Molly, Arthur, McGonagall, Remus and Tonks had given her for her birthday that she had yet to use consistently. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that the initials that had been stamps on the case were magically going to reflect her new name in the days to come. Making a mental note to use her fancy new professional items in the new year, Hermione moved on. Remus had sent her two books, as was their tradition; the first, a new book to do with werewolf behaviour for she had once expressed her innate curiosity in his 'condition' over summer holidays and he had passed on any reputable information made public since, and the second a newly released muggle young adult novel he must have found particularly interesting. Fred had stocked her up with Daydream Charms with instructions to use them at Hogwarts when the stress started to get too much again.

She had saved George's for last, not really knowing what to expect. It was a box, sort of flat, like a box you might have new clothing packaged in, and square. _And heavy_, Hermione noted as she tried to move it closer to her.

There was a note on it, just a little slip of paper tucked under the ribbon he had tried to tie around the package nicely.

_'Let me explain...'_ was all it said and Hermione hesitantly tore the paper off and flipped up the lid of the box. Laying cushioned on soft material was a polished silver pensieve about the size of a large dinner plate and Hermione gasped. Around the edges were engraved runes that Hermione immediately understood the purpose of; they were words lending truth and clarifying properties to the memories you chose to keep in the pensieve, helping protect them against tampering, degradation and deterioration.

And it must have cost a small fortune. Pensieves were powerful magical objects that many knew only by name; they were not owned by a large portion of the magical world. One wouldn't be extremely likely to find a pensieve in even half of any magical houses they visited or even a third.

This one was new, by the looks of it, and beautifully crafted.

George had truly outdone himself, and Hermione sat very still on her cot thinking.

How did one thank another for a gift so magnificent?

Hermione shook her head and vanished all the wrappings and ribbons before pulling on fuzzy socks over her leggings and a long sweater on to keep her warm. She stepped lightly out onto the landing and crossed into the bathroom, needing the facilities urgently. Stepping down into the kitchen, she found that not only was she the last person to rise but everyone was outside in the snow. Shockingly, it was nearly midday.

She didn't remember being _that_ tired when she had gone to bed the night before.

By the time she had made herself a cup of tea and settled cross-legged on a kitchen chair, she could hear boots stomping along the back porch and soon the ground floor was flooded with Weasleys in winter gear covered in patches of snow and noses as red as their hair.

"Hermione!"

"Good morning! Sort of."

"Happy Christmas, my girl!"

"You're awake!"

"Finally! Thought you'd _died_ -"

"Ron! Let her be!"

"Happy Christmas, love," George was the last to make his way through to her and she grinned at him after receiving many a festive embrace with plenty of 'thank you's exchanged as they ambled back in to have lunch. Hermione's heart thumped heavily in her chest at the sight of him, recalling their exchange in the yard the night before. The heaviness that had been plaguing her over keeping her feelings to herself was gone and it had been replaced by untampable elation.

"Happy Christmas to you too!" she leaned in close. "A _pensieve?_ You'd better start explaining; that's quite a large gift to justify, Weasley."

"Ah, you see, Granger," he rubbed his cold nose and surveyed his family members and their non-interest in their conversation, "I thought since you don't know when you'll have your parents back for sure, you might want a place to keep your memories so that you don't ever feel like they're fading or you're forgetting them at all. You'd always have them, crystal clear," he smiled down at her and gave her a small squeeze. "Also, I guessed it might be easier to organize certain things to do with your book, but it was mainly the parents thing."

"George, it's really very very lovely of you. You do realize that it's an extremely extravagant gift, right?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"I do, yes," he nodded with a grin. "But I felt it was an extremely fitting one, considering what I just said. Speaking of fitting presents, thank _you_," he changed the subject slightly. "I'd been trying to justify paying the outrageous number of galleons to go to that game for weeks, since they went on sale. And of course, Fred is ecstatic, as the git assumes I'll be taking _him_ with me and not you."

Hermione had bought George two tickets to the much-coveted Puddlemere-Kenmare match, the winner of which would face off against the Ballycastle-Pride of Portree victor sometime in March. All in all, she had heard both matches were extremely anxiously anticipated, and had thought it would be just the sort of thing he wouldn't buy himself.

"Well, you should take him," she nodded. "And not me. You _know_ I'm not a Quidditch person. I got them so that you could take Fred or Lee or whoever. I'm a terrible Quidditch companion; just ask Ron or Ginny," Hermione laughed lightly.

"Lunch!" there was a call and the Weasleys, who had largely removed their winter gear by that point, began shuffling around the table to sit.

"Did you get enough sleep, Hermione?" Molly asked lightly.

"I should think so. I'm surprised no one woke me up, to be honest, intentionally or otherwise," she sent a perplexed look to Ginny.

"I didn't try to be quiet, honest. You were just _out_," she laughed.

"Well, you obviously needed it," Alyssa spoke to her quietly, and gave her a small smile. The girl had been with Charlie for years in Romania were they both worked, and Hermione had only seen her on a handful of occasions, all of which seemed rather ill-timed. The Weasleys were a loud bunch, and Alyssa was quite quiet; Charlie spoke enough for both of them, she had said once to Hermione with a tinkling laugh, so soft it had sounded like a wind chime from a distance. Since he had been staying in England with her for the last little bit Hermione had seen more of her and they had had a chance to speak on more than once at a time that didn't involve trying to be heard over the rest of the group. Hermione found she quite liked the girl; she was talkative in her own way once you got her going on a subject she was knowledgeable about, and Hermione had found she had quite a large array of interests.

Leftovers from the night before were passed around and easy conversation floated between people around the table. The couples had started to set dates for the weddings awhile ago but with the impending nuptials of George and herself, it had started to become more of a reality for them as opposed to a far off occasion. While they were busy talking about dates and numbers of invites, Ginny was needling Hermione into going shoe shopping the next day.

"But Hermione," Ginny reasoned, "it'll be Boxing Day and we'll find some for a _bargain_."

"But _Ginny,_" Hermione used the same tone, "I hate shopping on a normal day. How do you think I'd fare on a day where everyone is going mad and the crowds are ridiculous?"

"We should go," Ginny nodded her head. "We're going."

Hermione sighed.

"Are you going to protest to wearing heels?" Ginny asked, taking a large bite of her turkey smothered in gravy.

"Yes," Hermione answered simply, doing the same.

After an afternoon filled with Christmas carols, snowball fights, snowmen, snow angels, hot chocolate and a late dinner, Hermione felt herself dozing off against George on the sofa, basking in the warmth of him and the crackling fire. The Burrow was quiet; most of the occupants who had stayed for Christmas Eve had gone home. It was just Ginny and Harry, George and Hermione and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley left. Everyone else had left to visit their other half's family for the holidays.

"How are you tired?" he laughed quietly.

"Shush, I'm sleeping," she muttered, eyes still closed.

"Honestly, you slept _all_ morning," she felt him flip a page of the book he had been indulging in as she lounged against him comfortably.

"And I'm going to sleep _all_ night, and it will be glorious," Hermione mumbled tiredly against him.

"You don't even need more egg nog to knock you out," he laughed and rubbed soothing circles on her arm, lulling her into a light sleep. Eventually she made it back upstairs to bed with Ginny, who was promising her that the next day wouldn't be too horrible.

* * *

><p>Ginny was mostly right. They got an early start and dashed into a few shoe shops before finding something that both Ginny and Hermione agreed on. Hermione had decided against white shoes, so the two of them found a pair of modest heels that could be magicked to match the blue of choice. Hermione was happy with that and they left relatively unscathed.<p>

"Do you know how you want to do your hair?" Ginny asked over hot chocolate at a cafe a little later.

"I'm fairly clueless about these sorts of things," Hermione shook her head. "You know this. Any ideas?"

"Well, because of the neckline of the dress, I'd say up. I can figure something out for you though," Ginny reassured Hermione and the girls speculated about the other weddings to come.

"What about Fred and Angelina?" Hermione laughed lightly. "You think you'll go mad and have a crazy wedding with no white in sight?"

"Well, since she's already pregnant..." Ginny grinned. "But even if she wasn't, they aren't exactly the sort of couple to go with tradition, are they?"

"No, I don't think so," Hermione agreed, "since they've already bought a house and moved in."

"How's the flat now?" Ginny inquired.

"Fine. Looks a little empty because Fred took a few things with him, but it's alright for George, since I don't stay there too often," Hermione answered. "He redid Fred's room for me with workspace and a spare bed in case I want to get away from Hogwarts for a bit."

"_Like you use the spare bed when you stay_," Ginny laughed loudly. "I can't believe Ron ambled into that at the dinner table on Christmas Eve. He is so thick sometimes."

"To be fair, it's not as if we told him not to mention the fact that I've been there all week above the shop or that he caught us kissing weeks ago. To be honest, I'm just glad he hasn't taken anything badly," Hermione continued.

"What do you mean?" Ginny tilted her head.

"Well, even though we decided to just stay friends after the Battle, he used to give me these longing looks. You know, with lots of drama, for Ron anyway," Hermione mentioned. "But thankfully, he stopped when all this started going down. I was just afraid that it might crop back up again. I don't need the hassle, frankly."

"Oh, yeah, I know what you mean," Ginny nodded in understanding. "We don't need the melodrama or the tension it would cause."

"Yes, I need the tension between George and Ron like I need a hole in the head," Hermione laughed.

"Why would you need a hole in your head?" Ginny laughed at her muggle-ism, but understood all the same. The two finished up their errands and returned to the Burrow.

George was still out at Hogwarts; he had volunteered to speak to the house-elves about what they thought would be appropriate fare for a New Year's Day wedding while the girls were busy with girly things. He had informed her that the suits were all done, so all in all, they had everything done.

In the days leading up to New Year's Eve, Hermione felt herself growing more and more nervous underneath a self-imposed mask of calm. If she just told herself enough times to cam down, and everything was fine, perhaps it would in turn calm her. So far it wasn't working that well.

Alas, she spent most night tossing and turning, even after going back to the flat with George.

"Do you think that's wise?" Molly had asked Hermione when they had announced they would be leaving in the evening on Boxing Day.

"What do you mean?" Hermione had a small inkling where this was going.

"Well, you're to be married in less than a week. Wouldn't it be better to spend the time apart? Away from temptation, perhaps?" she tiptoed delicately.

Hermione had blushed crimson before responding, feeling the heat catch in her clothes, under her chin and around her ears.

"That won't be a problem," she had responded, somewhat deceptively. To Hermione this meant there was no risk of sleeping together for the _first_ time, since they had already bypassed that milestone. To Molly, she knew it meant that Hermione was reassuring her of her modesty and purity. As Molly had turned away with a motherly smile to tend to something else, Hermione had let out a quiet breath of relief. She didn't like deceiving anyone but she would rather not have any riot acts read to her at present. Besides, it wasn't anyone's business but hers and George's, really.

* * *

><p>Hermione and George did choose to spend the night before apart and Hermione woke up early on New Year's Day. At first she just lazed in bed, warm and cuddling a purring Crookshanks close under the blankets. As soon as she realized the date, the nerves paralysed her and the nausea rose up.<p>

Today was the day she became Mrs. George Weasley.

_Oh boy._

She might be sick.

Yup, _definitely _going to be sick.

Hermione bypassed her slippers and ran barefoot around the bed and into the bathroom, thanking the house-elves for a clean toilet bowl after she had leaned over and emptied her stomach. Feet and knees now like ice from the cold stone, Hermione pushed the cold away and sunk to the floor by the toilet, trying to take calming breaths and ignore the unpleasant taste of vomit for a moment until she felt stable enough to stand and brush her teeth.

So she was getting married.

Big deal.

A lot of people would be getting married in the next year, or having kids, or both.

_Calm down Hermione, _she lectured herself. _You have a good man with nothing to worry about. Stop being so silly._

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice drifted through the bedroom and into the bathroom to her and Hermione was struck again with the imminentness of the situation. A new wave of nausea overcame her and Ginny walked in to find her best friend hunched over the commode. "Oh, Hermione." She heard the redhead set down some things in the bedroom and join her friend, squatting down to rub her back soothingly. "George wouldn't want you to be so nervous that you're making yourself upset over it," Ginny murmured quietly.

"I know," Hermione moaned, sitting up and flushing. "Urgh." She rose slowly, shakily, and moved to brush her teeth thoroughly with Ginny standing close by in case she had a relapse. She felt marginally better as she rinsed her mouth out after and Ginny made her go back to bed and sit under the covers to warm up again.

"Here," Ginny handed her a large button down she recognized as George's.

"What's this for?" Hermione accepted it and Ginny went back to rummaging through the things she had brought with her. Hermione gave the shirt a sly sniff and was pleased to discover that it smelled faintly of George.

"Put that on over your underwear after you shower and it'll make changing into your dress easier; you won't mess up your hair or your face," he voice was muffled by the rustling. She moved to hang their garment bags over the back of the bathroom door and returned, smile in place. "Feeling better? Want some tea? Have you had any breakfast?"

"Yes, a bit. Yes, just ginger and lemon, please. No, and I don't want any right now," Hermione responded to each question in turn and Ginny nodded, leaving to summon a house-elf for some tea for the both of them. Ginny returned with a tray of tea, hers a strong English breakfast which made Hermione's stomach turn at the smell of it, and a plain hot water with ginger and lemon for her.

"Hopefully that will help settle you," Ginny handed her teacup to her after offering some honey. "Now, say cheese!" Hermione looked up and found Ginny holding a muggle camera.

"Those don't work here," Hermione tipped her head and rolled her eyes.

"This one, and the other ones Harry and I got for you do," she grinned. "We took them to Flitwick and he spent loads of time spelling them to work inside the castle walls. He succeeded, therefore, _say cheese_."

"But I just got out of bed -"

"_Cheese!_" Ginny insisted and Hermione gave her a reluctant smile.

"Why did you have Flitwick spell them to work? You could have just used a magical one," Hermione blew the steam off her mug and took a whiff off the ginger, and it instantly had a calming effect on her stomach.

"Well, George was talking to Harry about it, and Harry thought it was a good idea. They both thought that if we use muggle cameras that produce muggle images, you could have some printed up for your parents. For when you get them back. Because you will, and they'll want something they can hang at their house and not scare all their friends away or bring the Ministry down on them," Ginny explained and Hermione teared up. She had not thought of pictures. Or that her parents might want something of their only daughter's wedding that they could not attend for safety reasons.

"Ginny," she said, voice wavering, "that was such a good idea. Thank you!"

"It wasn't mine," Ginny responded, being smothered by Hermione's ponytail as the girl hugged her tightly, shaking with tears.

"All the same," Hermione sniffled and took a deep breath.

"There'll be magical photos too, don't worry. Something for everyone," Ginny continued, setting Hermione back on the bed. Ginny moved around, pulling things from bags and setting up at Hermione's vanity. "Mum's bringing the flowers in a bit. I got them first thing this morning."

"Right," Hermione nodded, in somewhat of a daze.

Hermione Jean Weasley.

_Whew_.

The day was upon them.

"What time is it?" Hermione asked and Ginny consulted her watch momentarily.

"Just after one."

"Oh my god," Hermione whispered under her breath.

"I know," Ginny laughed. "Three hours to go and you'll be walking down the aisle. Deep breath, there you go," she patted Hermione on the back gently.

Hermione finished her tea slowly, praying the warm liquid would help keep her from throwing up all over the guests that were going to start arriving in less than two hours. Anxiousness burned in her stomach.

"Do you know how the courtyard is coming along?" she asked, trying to sound as though she was not panicking.

"I'm just going to get set up here and then go check but dad and McGonagall were working beside Flitwick pretty quickly when I walked by on the way up," Ginny saw right through her facade and grinned. "Everything will be fine, I promise."

Hermione nodded and rose to shower, feeling a little better. Taking slow breaths the whole way through her time under the hot water, Hermione scrubbed her skin clean and massaged shampoo and conditioner into her hair, rinsing the suds down the drain when she was certain she did not have any linger vomit smell on her anywhere. Drying, Hermione changed into her recently purchased wedding dress undergarments, put her leggings back on and buttoned George's shirt overtop. When she emerged from the steamy bathroom, both Ginny and Molly were there again and Ginny spoke up from the vanity chair.

"Everything's in order downstairs. Flowers are here too," she motioned to her mother who smiled widely at Hermione.

"It's looking quite lovely downstairs, Hermione," she said. "Ginny's told me you're not feeling so well."

"I'm feeling better, honestly," she responded with a small smile and sat back on the bed. "So what so I do now?"

"We get you ready, and then we get us ready. And then you get married," Ginny chirruped happily, jumping up to let Hermione sit in the chair, taking her spot behind her very-nearly-sister-in-law.

"I'm going to go help downstairs, and I'll back to help with the dress shortly," Molly said, and left in a flurry.

Ginny spent a few minutes drying and styling Hermione's hair and went about braiding fro, her front hairline down by her ear and across her nape. Ginny loosened the pieces and tucked the rest of the magically smooth curls into a loose undone bun behind her other ear.

"Since your dress is so elegant, I think a little less polished is the way to go. Yes?" she asked, looking at Hermione in the mirror who nodded.

"Whatever you think looks good," she voiced.

Ginny pulled some holly sprigs from the table and pinned them into the side of the bun.

"I thought these would be festive. And the florist said that holly traditionally represents truth. I thought it was fitting, and the dark red will go nicely with the blue, don't you think?" she showed Hermione the back of her head with a small mirror and Hermione had to agree. "Alright, face." The girls turned her around and spent another few minutes sweeping makeup over Hermione's face, though Ginny knew Hermione did not want to go overboard on it.

In the end, she had been quite pleased with the overall work that Ginny had done and she thanked her best friend as she set herself down to start work on her own hair and face. She settled on a loose French twist and minimal makeup herself. Molly returned shortly and got herself ready while Ginny stepped into her bridesmaid's dress and heels.

Before she knew it, Hermione was standing in her newly blue shoes having her dress lowered over her head carefully by Molly's wand and Ginny was doing a happy jig when her head reappeared at the end.

"It's here it's here, it's heeeeere," she sang. "I'm so excited! Are you excited!?"

"Yes," Hermione laughed at her antics, "I'm am, actually." Her hands were shaking a little from nerves and excitement but thankfully she didn't feel sick anymore. All that was left was a fidgety bubble of elation and she clasped her hands together as Molly's fingers nimbly cinched all the tiny buttons that curved from Hermione's tailbone the short distance to her waist. Molly adjusted the lace of the open back delicately, laying the scalloped edge flat against Hermione's skin.

"Everything comfortable? Not feeling tight in any odd places? See anything that needs an adjustment?" Molly asked, stepping back and surveying her.

"Looks fabulous to me. Hermione?" Ginny looked up from the material to find Hermione staring at her reflection looking quite perplexed.

"I look... _great_," she responded to the prompt, gazing again at her reflection. "Thank you so much, Molly." She gave the older woman a thankful smile and Ginny hopped off, reappearing momentarily with Hermione's flowers, holding them out to her. They shared a look and a grin, and Hermione took the large bundle in her hand, gazing at the pristine white flowers with the mistletoe, privet berry and pine ringing it. When she looked up, she found Ginny grinning like an idiot and Molly's eyes welling up.

"Oh, my girls," Molly started and then shook her head, pulling Hermione and Ginny in for a gentle hug. "You're both so beautiful! And _Hermione_ - I don't ever think I've seen a bride look so effortless in all my life. That dress really does suit you so very well."

Hermione breathed a flattered laughed under her breath.

"And never in my life have I been called effortlessly beautiful," she giggled, cheeks turning pink.

"Then my son dropped the ball somewhere along the lines," she waggled a finger in Hermione's direction. "Don't let him get away with that in future."

Soon it was time to leave her room for the first time that day and Hermione felt the nausea bubbling under the surface. The whole walk down to the courtyard was spent breathing deeply and slowly. Molly and Ginny could tell she needed a few minutes of quiet and refrained from interrupting her efforts to calm herself down.

Wait.

She was marrying George Weasley.

Marrying. George. Weasley.

What turns had she taken to get here? How did she end up in this place? She had stumbled into George, and she had stumbled into her job.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks with her mind racing.

What if she didn't really love him? What if she only loved him because she felt subconsciously that she had to, because of everything?

"Hermione?"

"Are you alright?"

"_Hermione?_"

She looked up at them, paralysed.

"What am I doing?" she asked quietly, and the women stepped back from where they had walked past her when she had halted suddenly.

"You're... you're marrying a man who loves you," Ginny reassured her. "And I'm pretty sure you love him, too."

"Do I really?" Hermione cringed as the thought came out panicked.

"I think that's something only _you _can answer, dear," Mrs. Weasley laid a hand on her lace-covered shoulder. "But even _if_ you never love him, Hermione, he'll still keep you safe and take care of you. Even if you two only come to an agreement on... well, maybe you always have your own room, maybe you just appease the law, maybe you come out of this ten years from now good friends who helped each other through an impossible situation."

"And maybe you're being stupid," Ginny rolled her eyes and Molly tutted at her daughter. "You love him! You've _never _looked at Ron the way you look at George and I've never seen you so happy in all the years I've known you!"

Hermione let out a long slow breath.

_You're being stupid_, Hermione reasoned with herself.

"Are you doing that panicky thing again like you did after he told you he loved you? Because we talked about that," Ginny raised a hand and shook a finger in Hermione's direction.

"Right, we did," Hermione felt herself begin to unfreeze and loosen up again. "No more of this. Not helpful." She shook herself a little.

"Too right," Ginny nodded. Molly had been looking back and forth between the two for the conversation.

"I love him," she stated clearly, more to herself than the other two women. "That might seem crazy, but I do. I do."

"Alright, alright, save it for the alter," Ginny laughed and snorted, somewhat ungracefully, which made Hermione giggle. Before she knew it, the giggle was a full on belly laugh and the three women couldn't look at each other without relapsing into fits. With eyes watering and faces flushed, they finished the walk down to the courtyard.

"Oh boy, what's got you three tittering?" Arthur appeared as they rounded the corner, his grin wide and lopsided as he observed them.

"Oh, Hermione just needed the sense knocked into her and a good laugh," Ginny grinned.

"Mission accomplished," Molly patted Hermione's arm and stepped away. "I'll have one the muggle cameras; Harry showed me how to work it," she held it up and gave it a little wiggle. "Let's have one of you three."

Arthur and Ginny sandwiched Hermione and the three of them posed for Molly happily.

Yes, this was okay. There was no need to panic too much.

Deep breath.

Hermione saw the floating paper lanterns start to flicker with light in the dying daylight as the winter sun quickly began to sink below the horizon beyond the walls of the castle.

"Let's get this show on the road, yeah?" Ginny set off around the other corner of the cloistered walkway and disappeared around it, heels clicking on the worn stone. Hermione gave a slightly nervous smile to Mr. Weasley and he grinned.

"You'll do just fine. George couldn't have picked anyone better than you, Hermione," he offered his arm to her and she took his elbow.

"And just remember, dear," Molly spoke up, "you've been a Weasley for quite awhile now. This isn't really changing much other than your last name, is it?"

The matriarch snapped another quick picture with a mischievous grin as Hermione laughed and nodded, conceding that she was right about that. The number of times that she had found herself staying with the Weasleys over breaks was quite high, she knew. But of course, that was what made them her family now, even before signing a piece of paper tying her to George.

Molly adjusted the holly that peeked out of the button hole of Arthur's indigo suit before pressing a kiss to his cheek, making him smile. She clasped Hermione's hand tightly for a moment before setting off in the opposite direction of Ginny to sit with the guests in the first row. Arthur steered Hermione around after Ginny, the two of them following in her footsteps slowly but evenly.

"Now, I must warn you," Arthur started, "the ground looks like ice, but you won't slip, alright?"

Hermione nodded, curious to see how it had all worked out in the end. She gasped as the setting came into view from the between the cloister pillars.

Pillowy snow had settled thick and pristine over the open grass courtyard and the roofs covering the arcades of the cloisters ringing it; the only places that weren't covered in snow were the aisle Hermione would be walking down momentarily, the ground under the guests' feet and chairs, and the grand tree at the end of the aisle. The chairs sparkled silver in the light of the floating lanterns that hung suspended over the entire courtyard at varying levels, much like the candles that had been known to float in the Great Hall. The sky was nearly black following the quick descent of the sun and the massive tree acting as a backdrop for the ceremony was glittering with refracted light; it was completely covered in crystal icicles.

"Nothing to be nervous about, love. I shan't let you fall," Arthur whispered with enthusiasm and she nodded dumbly. "That's the ticket. Ready?" Hermione nodded again and Arthur motioned for Ginny to start her walk ahead of them. Music Hermione hadn't noticed playing before changed as Ginny stepped out onto the shiny slick aisle and the people in the crowd of invitees took that as a sign to stand with a lot of rustling and shuffling, trying to get a good look at the redhead in the navy dress.

Hermione clutched her bouquet tighter, realizing with a paralysed feeling that it would be her turn to step out there in mere seconds.

She was not one to bask in the spot light.

Oh boy.

"You look beautiful, Hermione. Deep breath now," Arthur's voice permeated her nervousness and she followed his directives. Before she knew it, he was steering them out behind his daughter, who had reached the end of the line, and Hermione raised her eyes to survey all the people that had come to show their support and love for her and George today.

Some teachers and the old members of Dumbledore's Army had shown up in force; amongst the awed faces she searched she found Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Seamus Finnegan, Ernie Macmillan and the Patil twins. With them were the even more familiar pairs of Luna and Dean, Katie and Oliver, Alicia and Lee, and Neville and Hannah. Along with all the Weasley's and their partners, were members of the Order as well. Hermione smiled at them all, elated that so many had shown up. There was a click and a winding sound from nearby and Dennis Creevey appeared from behind a camera with a thumbs up sent in her direction which made her laugh.

Hermione and Arthur drew closer and gasps and sighs could be heard from the crowd and Hermione wondered why until she looked up for George and found him staring in complete awe and reverence at her. She felt his eyes trace the bateau neckline of her dress from collarbone to collarbone and down the long sleeves to her wrists. The gown was fitted to her torso snuggly, showing her relatively slim figure in a flattering way; at the top of her thighs, panels of silk organza had been inset to give her room to move more freely and she pulled the small train behind her, gliding over the icy surface without trouble. Hermione felt her palms grow moist as they drew nearer and nearer, and her heart was beating out of her chest. Harry was sitting in the front row and they grinned at each other, fingers brushing together from a quick reassuring squeeze by Harry's outstretched hand to hers.

George stood before McGonagall with Fred in suits matching the colour of Hermione's bouquet just as Arthur did. He was looking extremely dapper in a slim cut version of his father's attire and by the time they had reached the top of the aisle, he was wearing the most heart-palpitatingly lopsided grin she had ever seen and she could have sworn it made her chest ache. Arthur slowed them and he turned to wrap her in a tight hug, making tears spring to her eyes unexpectedly. When he pulled back he gave her a fatherly grin and packed her cheek before handing her off to George. Her hand fit just right in his as he pulled her up the one step onto the slightly raised platform where he was standing and suddenly Ginny's hand came into view, plucking Hermione's bouquet from her hands so that she could clasp George instead.

"Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards," Minerva began, addressing the crowd of people, "we have gathered here today to witness and celebrate the marriage of George Weasley and Hermione Granger."

There was a whooping from the gathering of people all perched on chairs and the Headmistress fixed the culprit with a stare.

"Yes, yes, that's quite enough Mr. Finnegan," she scolded, eyes betraying the humour she found in the situation freely as the crowd laughed and tittered before returning their attention to the front. George gave Hermione a sly wink and she grinned, nerves settling.

Breath in.

George's warm hands.

Breath out.

McGonagall's familiar voice.

"Though they started on this particular path out of necessity on September 1st, I have seen them take leaps and bounds in an effort to be happy with one another and in this I can find no fault. No one in this courtyard is more worthy of happiness than any other and that is true with these two people before you," Minerva paused. "Hermione, any words?"

"You brought me round in the end," Hermione laughed, hands shaking in George's from nervousness and excitement and an overwhelming knowledge of the next few minutes being some of the biggest she might ever have. "I didn't think it was possible to fall in love in three months, but I love _you_ so it must be possible."

George laughed freely and Fred clapped him on the back, and Hermione heard Ginny snort quietly from behind her as the guests murmured along with them.

"Thank Merlin," George said. "Didn't think I'd manage it there for a while; you had me nervous for the first time since my first detention with a certain Transfiguration professor."

"Watch it or she might yet give you another," Hermione stage whispered, cocking her head to the woman at their side officiating before the crowd, which was chuckling again.

"And _so_," Minerva pursed her lips to keep from smiling, "let us begin. Mr. Weasley?"

Fred stepped forward and pulled from his jacket pocket the black velvet box that Hermione remembered tucking into George's pocket a few weeks ago, the one with the new silver rings in. George pulled the small one free and Fred held out the box for Hermione to pluck George's large one from it before he snapped it closed again and tucked it out of sight.

"George, if you will."

"Hermione," George started, taking a breath to find his words, "with this ring I promise you the same things I promised you on September 1st. A promise not to force things, to get to know you better, and to be honest with you in every way that I can. I can't be sure about when exactly this all started," he paused again, "but I loved you before this, I love you now, and I will love you for as long as I live. I told you I would treasure you, and I will."

Hermione felt the prick of tears again in her eyes and for a moment George swam unclearly before she blinked the wetness away and he slid the slim silver band onto her finger above her engagement ring carefully.

"And Hermione?"

"I never realized -" she started, her voice wavering and gravelly, "I never realized, through the whole time I've known you, that I could be so happy with you if I just stopped to look at you instead of yelling at you about your troublemaking," she admitted and again the group cracked up, many remembering the epic showdowns in the common room between the twins and Hermione over the years they attended together. "And I'd never guessed I'd be spending hours upon hours brewing potions and casting charms to help you with that same troublemaking now, only a few years later," she grinned at the tall ginger in front of her and he returned it, happiness glowing about the pair. "And so with this ring, I promise to never lose sight of what I've finally opened my eyes to."

Hermione held the cool silver ring between her thumb and index finger, sliding it over George's knuckles gently until it settled near the third comfortably.

"George, do you take Hermione as your magically wedded wife?"

"I do," he answered, eyes unwavering from hers.

"And Hermione, do you take George as your magically wedded husband?"

"I do."

"Then without further ado, I pronounce you husband and wife," Minerva announced, raising her wand to shower silver sparks over the pair and Hermione felt the gentle brush of magic settle over her skin, making goosebumps pop up over her arms and legs. "I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. George Weasley!"

There was an uproar from the group, whooping and clapping and calling.

"Can I kiss her _now_?" George asked McGonagall with a laugh. "I'm going kiss her."

George raised a hand to Hermione's face and leaned in close, slanting his lips over hers so familiarly and strangely at the same time. When his hand snaked around her waist to hold her tightly to him, she heard the volume of the crowd's enthusiasm rise. When George pulled back, he fixed her with an intense look and she loosened her grip around his neck with a grin.

In a whirlwind of congratulations, whoops, yells, backslaps, hugs and tears, Hermione and George found themselves in a changed courtyard. The chairs had vanished and the alter had vanished and instead there was a large icy expanse of dancefloor for them, waiting for them to take it by storm for the first dance.

"May I have this dance?" George held out his hand and his eyes glimmered in the lantern light, making Hermione smile and reach out.

Theirs was a slower first dance, less formal. They swayed under the quiet of the crowd around them and the music drifted to Hermione slowly.

_"A hand upon my forehead, the joke and then the laugh..."_

Hermione loosely clasped George's hand in one of hers and leaned her cheek to rest against his solid chest beside her other one.

_"...waking up in your arms, a place to call my own..."_

They didn't speak. They just continued to sway until the song drew to a close and the beat changed, picking up with another song as other people began to make their way onto the dancefloor happily.

"Would this be a good time to cut in?" Harry's voice made them look up and Hermione grinned and nodded. Ginny was nearby and George stepped away and swept her up into a smooth twirl before the two of them made off into the crowd. Harry stepped up to fill the spot George had vacated, somewhat shorted in comparison, and Hermione settled easily against him.

"Do you think this is absolutely mad?" she asked him after a moment of them stepping together in an informal jig to the new music.

"Definitely," Harry nodded solemnly. "But that doesn't make it a bad thing. He's got enough crazy for the both of you and you've got the logical side well and covered, haven't you?"

"Mmm," Hermione agreed quietly.

"Sometimes I think all you can hope for is someone who balances you out, yeah?" Harry mused, eyes drifting over to Ginny and George making their way far more wildly around the room than Harry and Hermione.

George stole her back only to be claimed next by a procession of Weasley brothers.

"I never would have believed it," Ron started, "if you had told me six months ago that you two would be married and happy and... and that you genuinely loved each other."

"I know," Hermione nodded, clasping his shoulder in her hand. "If you had told me that, I'd have laughed myself silly and thought you'd gone bonkers."

"Things change, huh?" Ron looked down at her seriously and she nodded.

"They do," she gave him a small smile. "I hope things with Lavender work out well for you and her, Ron. I really do."

"Thanks, Hermione," he ruffled his hair and spun her out before pulling her back in, much smoother than she had ever thought possible for Ron to do. "Lav's been giving me lessons so I don't make a complete fool of myself at every wedding we go to," he explained at her puzzled look.

Hermione didn't even _see_ George before his twin swept her up in his arms and whisked her away from Ron, grinning madly back at him when he called out after them.

"So," Fred started.

"So," Hermione laughed, trying to keep up with his intense footwork.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm so so happy that you and George are... you and George. Know what I mean?"

"I think?" Hermione furrowed her brow a bit but smiled all the same.

"Well, you just make him so happy. Don't know what it is about you, Granger, but you just..." Fred petered off, waving a hand around them vaguely. "And by the way, _fantastic_ dress. Congratulations; I'm pretty sure you nearly killed him when you walked out. I think he actually stopped breathing for long enough to cause brain damage so good luck dealing with that."

Hermione laughed and blushed and they slowed to a sway.

"Thanks, Fred," she patted his shoulder. "You look very handsome as well. Blue suits you."

"Suits, _geddit_? Suits!"

"Ha ha," Hermione tittered and shook her head at his cheap pun. Ginny reappeared from the crowd red-faced and beaming before hip checking her brother aside.

"Excuse me, my turn!"

The small redhead took Hermione's hand in hers and spun her away from her new husband's twin quickly.

"Gin!" Hermione laughed and her friend placed Hermione's hands in the appropriate places.

"I'll be the man _this_ time, alright?" she lead Hermione in a simple box step and Hermione shook her head happily. "Everyone's having a great time, Hermione! And no one's listening, they're just laughing at us, so I can freely say now that I need some nieces and nephews and you had better get on that!"

The wedding guests around them were indeed not listening, just watching the two equally short girls try to dance with each other and admittedly managing to look quite graceful.

"It'll be a while yet, I'm afraid," Hermione blushed a deeper crimson at the attention and the conversation topic.

"Hmm," Ginny flashed her a look, "I'm not so sure about that. You did hear the story of Fred and Angelina, right? They weren't even trying."

Hermione laughed it off and suggested they grab a drink from the table laden with champagne flutes. When Harry came to steal a giggling Ginny a while later, George reappeared at Hermione's side, suit jacket having been discarded and a flush high on his cheeks. His white shirt had been rolled up to his forearms and he leaned against the drink table with a happy gleam.

"Do you know what your little sister is advocating for?"

"The little blighter just told me to 'put a baby in there', if that's what you're talking about," George flicked his eyes down to her flat stomach and she laughed.

"The nerve! We've only just got married!"

"Ah, well, can't blame her for it. I'm fairly sure the rest of the family has been egging her on," George shrugged lightly, snagging his own flute and tinking it against the edge of hers in her hand.

"I keep telling her not for a while yet, but she won't let it go," Hermione settled against George's side as they watched the crowd of people bopping and moving to the music happily.

"Ah, well, eventually she will," George mediated.

There was a familiar click from beside them and they both looked over to Dennis Creevey who came closer and gave them both a big smile.

"Hey, Dennis," Hermione greeted him. "I didn't know you'd be taking pictures today."

"Ron asked me to, the magical ones," the fifth year responded, wiggling his camera for emphasis.

"Is that Colin's old camera?" George asked warmly.

"Yeah," Dennis nodded. "I hope that maybe by using it, he gets to see all the pictures I take, wherever he is, and that he knows he helped make people this happy, in the end."

Hermione reached out and hugged the boy.

"He knows," she muttered. "Thank you." She let go after a moment and squeezed Dennis' shoulder before stepping back.

Dennis' older brother Colin had been an avid photographer before his untimely death in the Final Battle, and Dennis had been holding up rather well under the weight of the situation. Their parents were muggles, and it was extremely rare to have more than one magical child be born into a muggle family. They had spent the majority of the last year before the Final Battle in hiding but Colin had come to Hogwarts when the call to arms had been issued after Harry, Ron and Hermione had arrived at the castle on the 1st of May eight months ago, searching madly for the remaining horcruxes.

The partying carried on into the night, people dancing and eating and drinking. Lots of congratulations were given to the new couple and as the end of the night neared, Hermione felt like her cheeks would never settle into a neutral expression again. Surely they would turn to stone in the permanent grin she had on all night. Lots of pictures were taken, friends hugged, and songs belted and before she even realized it, it was time for her and George to leave.

"Congratulations!"

"Good luck!"

"Happy New Year!"

"We'll see you in a week!"

"Have fun!"

Shouts followed them all the way out to the carriage waiting to take them down to the train station so that they could apparate away to the cabin in the woods. As it jerked into motion they were showered with silver stars and sparks and Hermione laughed happily as George held her close. They both laughed uproariously as a glance back at the gathering gave them a view of a blunder by Neville. He had been concentrating on sending the silver sparks high and wide and he managed to trip over his own feet, landing rump-first in the snow outside the Entrance Hall. Hermione and George watched as no less than eight pairs of hands pulled him up and set him right before resuming cheering after the carriage as it disappeared around a bend.

"Stay right there!" George had insisted as the wheels came to a halt, and he jumped out, hurrying around to her door and helping her out.

"I'm fine, George," she protested, smile still in place.

"I know but this is necessary," he bent down and hooked an arm under her knees, swinging her up and cradling her against his chest as she called out in shock. Soon they were standing outside the cabin, the air silent in contrast to the castle where they had just been and Hermione sighed in relief. George took sure steps toward the door and let them in, crossing over the threshold carefully.

"Welcome home!" he called and Hermione looked around the changed room with a grin.

The whole cabin seemed to be blanketed in pillar candles, flickering in the darkness and lighting up the long forgotten corners of the room.

"Did you do all this?" Hermione asked in wonderment as he set her own gently and made to toe off his shoes.

"I did, yeah," George chuckled and walked over to the couch, dropping himself down with a sigh.

"Wow," Hermione breathed, dropping her heels beside his shoes and following after him quietly. The fire crackled in the grate and the cabin was incredibly warm for a winter's night. The silence was exactly what Hermione's brain needed.

The day had been full of excitement and nervousness and happy yelling and celebrating and just to been sitting for a quiet moment with George on the couch, as if nothing had changed in the last day was perfectly suited to the moment.

"So do you feel any different?" he asked, tilting his head to look at her while still resting it on the back of the couch.

"Not yet, no," Hermione responded, "but I think I'm still in shock, to be honest. You?"

"Mmm," George nodded in agreement. "Maybe it'll feel different in the morning."

Hermione tipped herself to the side and laid her head on George's chest, allowing him to rub her bare back slowly. His fingers traced the line of lace from her shoulder down her back to her lower back and up the other side repeatedly as they grew more and more drowsy in the firelight.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, hoping to catch him still semi-awake.

"Thank _you_," George returned with a sleepy sigh, and soon their eyes were drifting closed after an incredibly long and trying day full of every emotion under the sun.

When Hermione opened her eyes hours later, it was much darker in the cabin. The fire was down to glowing embers and most of the candles extinguished themselves. George's breathing was even and shallow under her and she shifted delicately, eventually making her way to stand without disturbing him from his slumber. It was must be very early in the morning, for the sky was black outside and the forest around them silent.

Hermione stretched, her legs tired from dancing all night, and reached behind herself to see if she could undo the buttons at her back to get her dress off. Nothing sounded better right now than soft clean pyjamas and falling back to sleep at George's side.

"Here," George's gravelly voice crackled with sleep as his hands stilled hers at her back. "Let me. It's about time this came off anyway, lovely as it is."

Hermione shivered under his tone and his fingertips as she felt them brush up and down her back once more, stopping occasionally to pull a round button free from its loop, exposing her back centimetre by centimetre. For whatever reason, Hermione felt this slow exposition made her far more vulnerable than any other time he had taken her clothing off; more so than falling into the bed upstairs after dumping leaves on her months ago, and more so than bending her over her desk only weeks ago.

George's hands left her and Hermione raised her eyes to his as he moved in front of her, regarding her quietly while loosening his tie and pulling it free of his shirt collar in the dim light. He raised his knuckles and brushed her cheek softly, the coolness of the silver ring there reminding her of the significance of the day once more.

Hermione began to unbutton his white shirt and as she did, George steadied himself with his hands on her shoulders, his fingers wrapping around the fabric that plunged into a deep 'v' at her back.

"You," he peeled the lace down her arms slowly, "are the most dazzling woman I've ever seen. Did you know that?"

Hermione felt her skin heat lazily under his touch and she grinned at him, all the while continuing down his torso to pull his shirt free and push it from his shoulders.

"No," she murmured.

"Hmm," he pondered, a lazy grin spreading on his face as she tugged his belt free of his pant loops and it clunked to the wooden floor hollowly. "I suppose I should explain then."

In contrast to the chaos of the day that seemed to fly by after she had calmed down enough to enjoy it, the moments that passed between George and Hermione were unhurried and deliberate. Clothing was divested slowly, piece by piece and Hermione felt as if George was consuming the sight of her becoming more and more naked to him as he pushed the dress down over her hips and it flumped to the floor at her feet. She tried to keep his pace, so that she wasn't disproportionately bare compared to him and dropped his trousers down as he removed her strapless bra and lowered her softly to the couch again.

"Positively radiant," he mumbled against her skin, kissing feather light from her ear to her collarbone, tracing the line her dress had followed across to the opposite side with his lips.

"Breathtakingly beautiful," he shimmied lower and wrapped an arm under her to hold her still while he kissed down her chest, pausing to squeeze a breast gently before resuming his descent. His hands were skimming her skin from the tips of her fingers to her calves and her breathing was becoming more and more laboured with every compliment he laid upon her.

"Deliciously exquisite," he nosed over the thin fabric covering her from his searching eyes, using his hot palms to push her thighs farther apart.

"Enticingly delectable," was the last one she heard coherently before he hooked a finger to pull her underwear aside and press a delicate kiss to her, opening her up for his viewing pleasure, fingers exposing every inch of her as she squirmed and undulated under his ministrations. She felt rather than heard his moan of satisfaction as the tip of his tongue brushed over her peaked nub and she cried out. He repeated the action over and over, refusing to speed up or lave more of her with the flat of his tongue as he had demonstrated at previous times, paying only the smallest, most frustratingly small wet brush to her in an infuriatingly slow pace. George was on his belly on the sofa before her now, with his arms wrapped over her thighs. On of her legs was against the back of the couch over his shoulder and he held the other one wide for her as she shook under his mouth.

"Do you believe me?" he asked lowly, brushing over her again so lightly and Hermione felt her release near, just behind her pubic bone, waiting for him to touch her again.

"Yes," she whined breathlessly and pushed her hips closer to him desperately. He growled lowly and finally acquiesced, his tongue taking quicker passes over her until the answer she had just given became a mantra. Hermione repeated it over and over, tingling feeling building where his tongue was working against her in the most torturous way until she felt her legs start to shake uncontrollably under George's palms. She was hanging suspended in the brief space where her orgasm lived for a protracted period of time, until all of a sudden it caught up with her and she cried out loudly, voice hoarse.

"Good," George barely let her surface for a breath before clasping her tight and shifting them both, settling her on his lap. Her limbs still felt like noodles and her muscles were still fluttering as eased his way into her, pushing her hips down onto his gently and holding them still when he was fully inside her. His forehead fell against her chest and she clumsily reached to hold herself upright after her rush, struggling to regain control of her body and her movements. She felt him seated inside her, unmoving, both of them enjoying the feeling of stillness with the gentle contractions around him.

Hermione used her arms and legs together to lift herself and slide back down onto him, watching his head tip back and his adams apple waver up and down wordlessly as she did so. George barely raised his hips to hers, basking in the feeling of her slipping up and down him without fuss, her breathy sighs speaking to her sensitivity. As she continued, mesmerized by his wordlessness, gradually his hands and arms wrapped more tightly around her and he raised his head to look at her in the dim flickering light.

"I love you," she opened her mouth an a whim and said what she had been thinking perhaps for the last month, but never in any moment like this had she voiced it to him ever. His hips started to meet hers harder and she laughed elatedly at the feelings creeping back into her.

"Say it again," he groaned into her throat, holding her close. Their skin was sticking together, their torsos pulling against one another as Hermione rose and fell over him at in increasing pace. Hermione could hear his breath grow ragged, raking over the shell of her ear and shivering down her back.

"I love you, George," she breathed in response.

"Fuck," he groaned and a zap of sensation tingled unexpectedly, making her clench tighter around him.

"I love you," she uttered once last time, knowing that this about it for him and she was rewarded with a strangled groan and George's hands bruisingly tight on her hips, ceasing her moving above him completely so that she could feel every erratic thrust he pushed up into her. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and held his cheek to her chest as he shook under her violently, breathing heavily as if he had just run a marathon.

"I love you too," he murmured and shifted after a minute or two of trying to find reality again during which time Hermione brushed through his hair with her fingers slowly. "You didn't come again," he stated, observing her through heavily lidded eyes.

"No, but that's alright," she answered.

"Not with me," George pressed a palm to her stomach and made her sit up straight as opposed to against his front as she had been. He clasped her wrists and brought them behind her, placing them on his knees, enabling her to support herself while leaning back. "Not tonight," he continued, wagging a finger at her, ensuring she didn't move from where he had put her.

George dragged his palms down from her shoulders to tease her chest and squeeze her hips, fingers descending to ghost over her mound and probe the space where they remained connected. Hermione watched as he raised a hand and licked his thumb wetly, lowering it back down and settling it over her clitoris, just above where his cock was still sheathed inside her.

"You do want to come again, don't you?" he asked, slowly moving the wet thumb around her, making her shake at the direct contact.

"Yes please," she groaned, tilting her head to the ceiling and leaning back against his knees heavily, candlelight skimming her smooth skin under his watchful eye.

"You're not done?"

"No," she whined, knowing he was going to draw this out as long as possible.

"You know what to say then, I think," he brushed up, making her undulate her hips against his hand, searching for more of anything he would give.

"I love you," she guessed, and was compensated for uttering the words he desired by a more forceful and quickening stroke of his thumb. Hermione gave an unladylike grunt of frustration, her muscles again tightening, this time around him as he remained unmoving and buried inside her.

"I'm going to feel the exact moment, love, so don't be shy now," his lilting voice stoked her desire. "Just keep giving, and you'll get what you want."

"I love you," she groaned and it was followed by a shaky gasp as he again increased his pace, playing hide and seek with her second release.

"Mhm, I can tell," he commented lightly, and she felt his eyes running up and down her body that was stretched out for him and she heaved breathes in and out of her lungs loudly. She could feel the frisson start like a dynamite fuse; he had lit her and the sparking was racing, racing towards his thumb.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," Hermione chanted again, and it was down to the wire and milliseconds and crossing the finish line and explosions as George wrapped an arm under her waist to support her as she finished, tumbling and spinning and screaming and shaking and squeezing and fluttering.

It was as if all her senses shut down and when she came back around, George was holding her close and she was draped over his torso. Without disturbing her once, he had managed to turn and recline back onto the couch, allowing her to lay on top of him heavily and regain her breath. Hermione's eyes were heavy with exhaustion and they drifted closed as she laid against George's chest, which he seemed to have no problem with.

"Lu-yoo," she whispered unintelligibly against his skin, lips refusing to move enough to make all the sounds of the words clear.

"I love you, too," he responded, his voice rumbling in her ear and with that, she was out.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Whew.**

**Kindly ignore the fact that the song that plays as they dance didn't exist until 2011, please. (Lifening by Snow Patrol).**

**Inspiration pictures that I used for Hermione and Ginny's dresses are in my profile, I won't keep them there forever, so have a gander now if you would like to. **

**We made it, people! **_**Now what happens?**_

**Let me know what you think of things, this chapter and what's to come. Some of you are like mind-readers!**

**Leave a review!**

**Cheers!**


	26. Chapter 26

Hermione opened her eyes blearily, light from one of the windows falling across her face irritatingly. She reached up slowly to brush back the hair that had fallen out of Ginny's style from last night and sighed. Her whole body was tired and sore. All that dancing, all that walking in heels...

She felt the gentle rise and fall of George's chest underneath her, realizing she had barely moved from last night when she had passed out on top of him.

All that sex.

Hermione took a slow breath and pulled herself up carefully so as not to disturb George. It was all pointless though; he was fast asleep stretched out on the couch, one arm thrown back over the arm rest behind his head, his arm blocking most of the light from the window which had woken her far before she would have liked.

Standing and groaning inwardly at the aches and pains of sleeping oddly for most of the night, Hermione felt her head spin a bit and reached out to steady herself on the mantle of the cold fireplace. Her stomach churned in her belly, bile rising in her throat and there was no way to stop it.

She dashed quietly to the back door and grabbed her long coat, swinging it around her naked body. Magically the zipper closed and ascended to her throat and she slipped out the back door, hand over her mouth. Barely holding on until the door clicked shut behind her, Hermione leaned over and emptied her stomach into the rubbish bin beside the door.

_Why was she still feeling so terrible?_

She had been resting and relaxing, the wedding was over so there wasn't anything to stress about, and there was months to go before her book was due to be completed under her contract.

_You did hear the story of Fred and Angelina, right? They weren't even trying._

Ginny's words echoed in her head and she paused, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Surely, she couldn't be pregnant _already_.

Well...

Not surely.

Sex could result in babies and there had definitely been plenty of that between George and her. So technically, it was possible but she had been careful, watching the calendar and tracking her cycles and...

Stranger things had happened, right?

_George did say the Weasleys were a fertile bunch!_

Hermione's own words to Angelina replayed in her head as she hunched over the bin once more, retching.

Maybe she had better get to the bottom of this.

Telling herself to stay calm until she knew for sure, Hermione waited outside for a minute more, shaking in her winter coat and nothing else to see if she was done with the rubbish bin for the time being. After conceding that she was, she let herself in again, listening for George's slow breathing before creeping upstairs and cleaning herself up. She didn't have time for a shower right now; she used magic to clean out her mouth and remove any residue from last night's activities so that she could dress quietly in jeans and a pullover. Hermione redonned her winter jacket and made sure she had muggle money on her before leaving a note for George explaining that she had gone to get them breakfast. The mention of food made her stomach turn again and before long, she had left and apparated to a muggle pharmacy.

This was ludicrous.

_Wasn't it?_

Hermione had never had cause to stand in the 'Family Planning' aisle of any drugstore and bit her lip, surveying the many brands and boxes and claims of accuracy. They all did the same thing, right? It wouldn't matter which one she chose. Hermione sighed and snagged a box, paying quickly and leaving, shoving the box deep in her coat pocket.

There was absolutely no way she would be taking it in the outhouse at the cabin and she didn't want to be anywhere near the Burrow in case they asked why she wasn't with George, and why she couldn't use her own bathroom.

Her own bathroom!

Her own _private_ bathroom at Hogwarts.

Hermione set off to find a quiet place to apparate and appeared back at the train station for Hogsmeade, setting off at a quick trot up to the school. It was a Saturday and still winter hols, meaning the grounds were particularly deserted. Thankfully for her, Hermione encountered no one in the corridors and she climbed the staircase up to the seventh floor, heading for her rooms.

"Ms. Granger?"

Hermione closed her eyes momentarily, the familiar voice of the Headmistress ringing clear through the empty space.

"My apologies," McGonagall drew closer, stepping up to address Hermione directly. "It's Mrs. Weasley now, I'm sure that won't be the first time I forget."

Hermione opened her eyes and turned, looking oddly down on the tall professor who stood a few steps below her.

"Minerva, good morning," Hermione plastered a smile on her face, hoping the woman would not sense anything amiss.

"The same to you," she inclined her head minutely. "I thought for sure we would not see you here until the week was out, in the very least."

"I forgot something," Hermione pointed vaguely over her shoulder in the direction of her quarters.

"Ah," her former professor nodded in understanding. "At seven in the morning? The day after your wedding? Hermione, you really must take some time to relax, you know."

Hermione felt the burn of a blush start and she fought the feeling the Minerva McGonagall already knew that she was lying about her reason for returning to the castle so soon.

"But I shall let you go; don't want to keep you from your honeymoon!"

Hermione could have sworn she heard a note in the woman's voice but her face remained stoic. The more time passed after Albus Dumbledore's death, the more the new Headmistress seemed to take on his all-knowing air and Hermione brushed the thought aside.

"Thank you! I'll see you soon, surely!" she smiled and took off up the stairs again quickly, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when she rounded into her corridor and safely into her rooms.

Crookshanks meowed loudly and unexpectedly, perched on top of one of the bookcases.

"Well, you obviously didn't expect me back anytime soon," she scolded him and he flicked his tail. "Fine, you don't tell anyone I was here, I won't tell anyone you were climbing where you shouldn't have been."

Hermione sped through to the bathroom, boots echoing in the small space. Her jacket was discarded to the floor and she pulled the box from her pocket. She made quick work of reading through the directions and pulled the little plastic stick free of its loud wrapper. Crookshanks was at her heels in a moment and she shushed his mad meowing to no avail.

"Go play with your mouse!" she nudging him from the room with her foot, clicking the door shut behind him with a sigh. "Okay..."

Hermione sat herself down on the toilet and followed the directions, placing the test flat on the side of the white porcelain sink when she was done. She paced back and forth from the window to the tub, counting out three minutes in her head.

This wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, would it?

They had to have children in the next three years anyway.

This was a little early.

She still had her book to finish.

It was bad timing with that.

But it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to have a baby. Partly her, partly George.

Hermione's heart thumped in her chest as she reached the count of 180 and steeled her nerves to look at the stick sitting beside the sink tap.

One line.

Hermione fumbled with the box and dropped it in her haste. She bent to swipe it from the stone floor and scrabbled it around in her hands, locating the back and reading the symbols again for clarity.

Two lines was positive.

One line was negative.

_One line was negative._

It was negative.

No baby.

Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and she heard the blood rushing in her ears.

That was good, right?

They didn't really need that so soon after everything.

Hermione pulled herself together after a few minutes of staring at the test, and the box, and back to the test. She made her way out of the castle again, not running into anyone on the way as she made her way back down to the village and walked over to the Three Broomsticks. It was after eight now, and the pub was known for hearty breakfasts and hangover cures so Hermione went in and ordered her and George some breakfast and coffees to go.

Now that her panic had settled and the nausea had taken care of itself earlier, hunger rumbled in her belly and she thankfully took the cooked food from Rosmerta and balanced the coffees, apparating back to the cabin.

Smoke was rising from the chimney and Hermione smiled. George must be up.

She took a deep breath before pushing through the back door, resolving to keep the majority of her morning activities to herself for now. She didn't want to scare him into thinking anything that wasn't an issue.

"Good morning!" she called, approaching the kitchen table and setting down the bag of breakfast and the tray of coffees, looking for George.

"Morning!" he called from upstairs in the loft and descended, bare feet poking out from a pair of soft-looking sleep pants hanging low on his hips. "I was a little disappointed to wake up with no you laying all over me keeping me warm but since you brought breakfast, I'll forgive you," he shuffled over, pulling a shirt over his head and kissing her soundly on the cheek. "Ahhh, thanks love," he lowered his voice and sniffed the coffee gently. "Just what I needed."

"I see you managed to light the fire and turn on the hot water all by yourself!" she chirruped, unzipping her jacket and hanging it from the peg at the front door.

"Mmm," George nodded, taking a sip of coffee and reaching to unpack the bag of breakfast. "I need a shower."

"Phew," Hermione rounded the table behind him, waving her hand under her nose and grinning, "yeah, you really do."

"Oi!" George laughed. "It's partly your fault, Granger."

Hermione said nothing and just observed him open a container to find steaming scrambled eggs. He paused and cocked his head.

"Do I still call you Granger now?" he wondered aloud lightly and they both laughed, spooning eggs onto their plates followed by bacon and hot buttered toast.

"I don't know," Hermione sipped her own hot brew. "McGonagall called me Ms. Granger this morning too."

"McGonagall?" George frowned and offered some crisp bacon to her. Trying her best to keep a straight face as she felt her stomach flip at the smell, she shook her head lightly.

"Oh, yes, I - I popped back to Hogwarts for some notes," Hermione lowered her eyes and shovelled some eggs onto a toast triangle, hoping to come off nonchalant. "They must be here after all; I couldn't find them on my desk."

"Maybe they're in the bag Ginny dropped off for you? I did move it to set out all the candles, but it's just upstairs," he spread jam over his toast and took a large bite, rolling his eyes back in exaggerated ecstasy. Clearly he had not picked up on her white lie.

"Probably," Hermione seized the explanation. "I packed in a haze of nerves so I wouldn't be surprised if I put them in there and just don't remember doing it."

George nodded and the two progressed to discussing whether or not to do anything in particular that day.

"Does it feel different now?" Hermione voiced quietly. They had decided to go for a walk around the quiet lake, crunching softly through the snow. Hermione's mittened hand was clasped in George's gloved one and they walked side by side, nether feeling much need to fill any silences that might fall between them.

"I think so," George answered slowly, looking up from his boots to her. "You?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

If this morning hadn't given her a rude awakening to the realities of their new life together, she didn't know what would.

"So how is your book coming along?" George asked after they had begun to round the far side and make their way back to the cabin.

"Good!" Hermione grinned. "I was hoping to do a bit of reading tonight or tomorrow; at least sometime before we leave. I've got a rough list of things and times and events I'd like to cover chronologically..."

She heard herself talking but it was much the same as any explanation she had given to any other person inquiring. Her mind was lingering on the fact that she still wasn't feeling well and she had almost been sick at the smell of bacon; she loved bacon.

Smell sensitivity was another symptom of...

The test was negative so why was she still debating it?

* * *

><p>A few days later, Hermione was having a harder and harder time in the mornings; George had yet to catch her actually heaving anything up but he was becoming more suspicious by the day. Hermione had a feeling it had to do with her new general aversion to food that had been developing over the last four days.<p>

"What's the matter?" he asked as she hastily pulled away from him a few days before they were due to leave the cabin.

"Nothing," she said, resisting the urge to cover her mouth with her hand.

"Something is _wrong,_ I can tell," he pressed, raking a hand through his hair and stopping himself from striding after her.

"You just - your breath smells like coffee," Hermione responded lightly, trying to get a hold of her urge to duck outside and vomit. Breathing deeply, the impulse melted away slowly.

"I usually smell like coffee in the morning. You haven't ever dodged a kiss because of it," George gave her a funny look but went to brush his teeth and shower regardless. He had offered to chop more firewood that afternoon; the stack against the side of the cabin was running extremely low.

"But I can do it," Hermione had protested, flicking the washcloth over the kitchen table quickly after they had finished breakfast that morning, Hermione barely stomaching a piece of plain toast.

"I know you can," George had crouched to stoke the fire in the grate, the flames hissing under his prods. "But I happen to be your husband now, and husbands take care of their wives."

Hermione had stared at him from her stance of leaning against the kitchen table, arms splayed mid-cloth-wipe with a dumbstruck look on her face. A moment later she'd gone back to her task, turning to rinse the cloth and hang it over the tap to dry.

"That's it?" George had remarked, humour prevalent. "No arguments?"

"Nope," Hermione had shook her head lightly. "Your argument is valid."

"Right then," George was clearly impressed with himself. "I'll have to remember not to overuse the 'Husband Card' so that I don't lessen the effectiveness over time."

"You think you're _so_ clever," Hermione had laughed at his self-impressed expression and dropped herself onto the couch with a book. She hadn't moved since, and George had already made his way outside to gather wood, making sure as he left that she was sure that no one would see him levitating timber around and breaking it down into more manageable pieces. Hermione had assured him that they were very much hidden from prying eyes and spent the last hour reading quietly in front of the fire while nursing a mug of tea.

She stretched and rose, flipping back the blanket and taking her now empty cup to the sink. She paused to rinse it and set in on the drying rack, gazing out the window at George. He was flicking his wand back and forth at the base of a nearby tree in quick forceful jabs and as she watched on, the tree began to lean and eventually fell to the ground under the guidance of magic. Soon it was chopped up into fireplace-sized pieces and kindling, all floating towards the cabin en masse. Hermione heard the thumps and thwacks of the hunks of wood being dropped and stacked carefully.

Of course, she had known it already because she had known him for a long time, but they were all right; everyone who said he was a good man who would take care of her no matter what happened with the law and with them, good or bad. They had all been right.

She remembered thinking before that she could have done much much worse in the end but now that she had him, in the honest way of actually loving him and not just trying to make something out of nothing for the next few years, she couldn't remember a time when she didn't want to be with him. Logically she knew there was a time not too long ago where she still had feelings for Ron and a small part of her had been absolutely ecstatic that they had kissed. Fortunately for them, that part was much smaller than anticipated and they had parted amicably but before that she had spent _years_ trying to get Ron to grow up and actually do something. Anything. That part of her life seemed so very separate from this one; it was probably for the best seeing as they were brothers. Even after years of fantasizing about Ron in her dreams, nothing had even come close to the feelings George provoked and cultivated, and she realized that with _that _especially, she was very lucky. For all she knew she could have ended up paired with some old geezer or the youngest family member of a long line of purebloods who took pleasure in torturing muggleborns such as herself.

"Have you ever had any errant desire to get your jollies outside?"

Hermione jumped, having been gazing out the front window thinking for long enough to not notice George crack the door and step inside, trying to close it after himself to keep as much warmth in as possible.

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione laughed, clutching her chest.

"You know..." he trailed off, hanging up his jacket and gesturing out the window pointedly. "Jollies. Outside. Just an honest question, love." He smirked and reached for a glass, filling it with water form the tap as Hermione blushed.

"In this weather?" Hermione asked, eyes on the snow and partially frozen lake.

"In any weather," he clarified, taking a big gulp of cold water.

"I don't think so, no," Hermione shook her head, wondering where this had come from. "Why?"

"Well, you said we were hidden and, I'm being frank here love, I just couldn't help my man-brain from going where no Hermione had thought before," he winked at her and plunked his glass down casually, ambling over to the couch and pulling his jumper over his head as she stood in the same spot in the kitchen.

"It's _far _too cold outside!" Hermione laughed, unsticking her feet and rounding the table after him.

"Right, I'll wait until it gets warmer then, shall I? I assume it'll be a 'yes' then," he chuckled to himself and adjusted on the couch so that she could sink back into her nest. Hermione settled silently, pondering.

"Well... do _you_... outside?" she asked, not sure if she wanted the answer or not.

"Do I what outside?" he asked casually, eyes glittering and taunting her.

"Have you thought about having sex outside?" she asked, trying to keep her skin from getting hotter.

"Mhm," he nodded, smiling innocently in a completely unconvincing way.

"Oh," she remarked lamely and let the pause drag. "Where?"

"If I didn't know better I'd say you were interested," George laughed and she continued to wait patiently. "Just _outside_."

"Like in the trees? Or in the lake? Or in the middle of the clearing? On the mountain?" she pressed, curious.

"All of the above," he wiggled his brows at her and she laughed, shaking her head. The fire crackled and the two burrowed down, Hermione reading a history book and George going over some papers for the shop quietly.

* * *

><p>A week after their wedding, Hermione and George were getting ready to return to real life and responsibilities; George had taken the full week off of work and Hermione had kept her work time to a minimum. They had both really enjoyed the time they had spent together, just being in the other's presence for an extended period of time.<p>

"Both still alive?" Fred had asked upon seeing them stroll into the store on Friday afternoon, George carting his stuff back to the flat.

"Yep," he nodded, grinning at Hermione over his shoulder.

"No annulments?" Fred pressed.

"Nope," Hermione had bumped his arm softly as they walked by.

"Everyone still have both arse cheeks?"

"Under what circumstances would we have lost them?" Hermione stopped and gave him a perplexed look.

"Well, maybe you put your wand in your back pocket. _Constant vigilance_," Fred stated stoically and Hermione cracked up.

"Right, unrelated," she giggled, turning to follow George upstairs.

"Well, maybe not. Or you cursed one of his off. How am I to know? That's why I asked," Fred grinned.

"So thorough of you, Fred."

"Thank you for taking notice," he nodded resolutely at her before she disappeared up the staircase.

Hermione had helped George unpack his things and made sure she wasn't leaving anything she might need for the week in the flat. She packed up some papers and a book she would require for referencing and kissed George goodbye. They would see each other next weekend for sure, if not before that. George would be busy helping replenish the store after the holiday chaos and balancing the books while Hermione would be implementing the next phase of her book project. George had made her swear on Crookshanks' life that she would take care of herself and not let herself get sick from not eating or sleeping enough.

* * *

><p>Over the next days she did just that.<p>

Even if she had tried to keep herself awake into the night to work, she couldn't have done it. By the time six o'clock rolled around every night, she was dragging herself through the shower and trying not to fall asleep in her dinner plate at her small living room table. Unfortunately, eating at night meant throwing up in the morning and each time Hermione opened her eyes, she prayed desperately for some relief.

It had been weeks of on and off sickness and exhaustion and so on the first day of classes after she returned, Hermione made her way to the Hospital Wing to try and find something to help her. Her mornings were becoming increasingly less productive and it was getting harder to motivate herself to get up at a decent time. Considering the early hour at which she was pouring herself into bed every night, Hermione thought this quite odd.

The trek to the Infirmary seemed to take forever and Hermione was glad she had waited for classes to commence before leaving her rooms. The last thing she wanted to do at the moment was open her mouth and talk to anyone who greeted her. The nausea was at bay for now, but it seemed to have the ability to jump back to the forefront of her concerns at a moment's notice.

Hermione pushed through the door lightly and sighed, casting a glance around the open floor plan of cots and side tables and high windows. Madam Pomfrey was tending to a young boy in a sling and motioned for Hermione to sit down and she'd be right over when she was through. The brown-haired witch sank onto the cot two away from the sling patient and dropped her head back, resting on the stone window sill behind her until the matron was free.

"Hermione," the healer greeted her friendly, "what can I do for you today?"

"Morning, Poppy," Hermione smiled meekly, wiping her clammy forehead with her sleeve. "I've been under the weather for a while and I've finally caved and come to see you."

"Alright, let's have your symptoms then and see if we can't get you sorted," the woman nodded, waiting patiently.

"Fatigue and occasional sleeplessness, nausea, and fever," she listed.

"No cough? Runny nose?"

"No, just those," Hermione responded surely.

"Alright, well considering it's you, it's likely you've been working yourself too hard and picked up a virus from one of the students," the matron moved to her office nearby to fetch a large glass bottle, returning quickly. "Sound about right?"

Hermione nodded. The woman had a way of shaming you for your lack of self-care without saying a word.

"I'm going to give you a dose of Pepperup Potion. That should get anything you've managed to contract. After this, back to bed. Tomorrow you should be right as rain. _But _- make sure you take care of yourself! You'll only end up sick again if you don't, my dear."

Hermione nodded, accepting her scolding with grace. The woman poured her about an ounce of the orangey red liquid and handed it over.

"Down the hatch and just wait a few minutes before you leave," she patted her leg and turned to clean up after the sling patient now that he had left the Hospital Wing healed. Hermione pinched her nose and knocked back the potion, nearly choking on the strong taste in her mouth afterwards.

When Madam Pomfrey came back around one of the dividers, she cast a glance to Hermione.

"I know it tastes bad but the faster you take it, the faster you'll feel better," she wagged a finger at Hermione.

"I've taken it already," she held up her empty glass, confused.

The healer approached her cot and leaned down to survey Hermione closely, not saying a word.

"I should be pouring steam from my ears by now, shouldn't I?" Hermione asked, nerves starting low in her belly.

"Not necessarily. The potion makes you steam after you take it when you're _ill_. The more ill you are, the more steam there is. But you have no steam. So you must not be ill," the matron explained, looking down her nose at the girl.

"So what's wrong with me?" Hermione cast a glance down at her body, wondering what could be making her feel so sick every day. The healer pulled her wand from her apron and waved it over Hermione in slow passes, analysing something Hermione wasn't able to see.

"Well, nothing's _wrong_ with you, but I've found the cause of the problem," she blinked, lowering her wand slowly and reaching to draw the curtains around Hermione's bed.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, wringing her hands.

"You're pregnant."

Dumbfounded, Hermione remained silent for a moment.

"I'm... you can tell already?" Hermione stumbled over her words.

"What do you mean, dear?" Poppy shook her head with a smile. "You either are or you aren't."

"Well, I wasn't pregnant a week ago," Hermione breathed quietly and Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"Of course you were. I'm not an expert on estimating exact dates for pregnancy related things as I don't get much practice here, but I'd say you're around five weeks," she gestured with a small hand.

_"Five weeks?"_

"Yes, I'd say that's about right."

"But I took a muggle test _last_ week - it was negative," Hermione voiced, bewildered.

"Well, I'm not sure how those work exactly, but... are they always accurate? Or perhaps a false negative, or maybe magic interfered with the result?" she suggested quietly.

"I - I don't really know," Hermione answered slowly, faintly.

_Pregnant?_

All the thoughts she had had a week and a half ago when she had snuck out to get the muggle test and taken it in her bathroom upstairs came flooding back and Hermione moaned.

"Is there anyone I can owl for you, dear?" she patted Hermione's hand gently.

To Hermione, time seemed to stand still, dragging slowly behind and then jumping forward in large chunks of accelerated speed. How was she going to explain being _five _weeks pregnant when they had married only eleven days before?

Madam Pomfrey brought her a large cup of tea and Hermione sat cradling it silently and trying to see clearly through the new information she had just been given.

She could extend on her book, right? She could still finish it before the deadline. Right? Surely.

The Hospital doors were flung open, heavily bumping into the wall behind them and George rushed in; he had snow in his hair and sticking to his coat, evidence of having run up from the town. He was flushed and panting indicating the quick pace at which he had rushed through the castle to get to the Infirmary.

"Hermione? What's happened?" he asked, locating her in a cot not far from the doors. "What's wrong?"

"Hi George," she said quietly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Yes hello, love. _Why _are you in the Hospital Wing?" he pressed, perching on the side of her bed in a swirl of coat and cool air.

Hermione took a deep breath.

"I'm pregnant."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes!  
><strong>

**I'm opening up a poll on my profile for you guys to tell me what you think it'll be! Boy, girl, twins? **

**Leave a review for me please!**

**Cheers!**


	27. Chapter 27

"You're..."

George was giving her an unsure look, like he wasn't certain he had heard her properly.

"Pregnant," she nodded slowly, feeling very insecure under his casual scrutiny. He leaned in closer and tilted his head just the most infinitesimal amount before opening his mouth again.

"I knew it," he stated deliberately and puffed his chest out.

"You - you what?" Hermione was taken aback at his reaction.

"I knew it!" he said louder before he waved his hand. "Well - I didn't _know_ it, but I _knew _it - know what I mean?" he detracted from his earlier statement.

"Not really, no," Hermione buried her face in her hands, took a deep breath and peeked through her fingers at him. "_Now _what do we do?" she asked, somewhat distraught.

"Erm," George scratched his head belatedly. "Well, I'm going to give you a big hug, right, and then a _very _big kiss. Yeah, and _then_ I'm going to take you home and dote on you incessantly -"

Hermione gave a melodramatic sigh.

"Okay, I'll try not to dote too much. _But_ - I will take you home after I've spoken with Pomfrey. I've no idea what to do now. Do we... make an appointment at St. Mungo's? I think that's what Fred did..." he pondered a moment before patted her leg. "Look love, everything will turn out alright, yeah? Now, come here."

George leaned forward and wrapped Hermione in a large hug and she settled against his chest, hooking her arms under his and squeezing back. She still wasn't past the part where it all made sense. When he pulled back, he held her face in his hands and gave Hermione a tender kiss, lingering a little too long considering it was a public space. His happy grin dissuaded her from scolding him; she was also in need of his support right now.

This was so confusing.

George wandered over to the matron's office and Hermione watched him lean against the doorjamb with his ankles crossed casually as he was wont to do, while he nodded at whatever she was telling him.

How was he so calm about all of this?

He _knew_?

What did _that _mean?

A few minutes later, whereby Hermione didn't move an inch and kept trying to figure out how exactly this had happened since she had been careful to keep an eye on her calendar, George returned with Madam Pomfrey on his heels.

"Right, she's sorted me out. I know what we have to do," George hooked a thumb over his shoulder and Poppy shook her head at his back, giving Hermione a look over his shoulder. "We're to owl the Maternity Ward at St. Mungo's and make an appointment. They'll be able to give you a thorough exam -"

"But nothing is wrong right now that I can see, Hermione. You just have to go get checked out; since the Ministry passed that law, everyone has to have documentation of an examination to confirm that they actually are pregnant. You've got to go even if you don't want to have the baby at the Hospital."

Hermione blanched and George caught her sudden pallor change.

"We'll work it all out once we have the facts. No need to panic just yet," he patted her leg again. "Let's get some things for you, and we can go back to the flat -"

"I have work to do," Hermione shook her head, feeling guilty. "I can't just leave."

"But Hermione, can't you - I don't know. I'm not saying forever; just until we've seen a healer and come up with a plan? I'd much rather you stay with me at the flat for a week or two," George reasoned.

They stared at each other silently, George waiting for an answer and Hermione getting the imminent sense of watery eyes welling up. Without any warning to him she burst into tears, raising her hands again to her face to try and stifle them.

"I'll give you a minute," Poppy's voice lowered and Hermione heard her shuffle away and George drew closer, perching beside her.

"Love," he spoke quietly, "There's no reason to be upset. Right?"

"But I'm pregnant!" Hermione wailed.

"And I love you to pieces, so there's nothing to worry about, alright? Please just take a deep breath," he reasoned and tugged her hands down, exposing her splotchy face with the tear tracks dripping to her chin. "No more of that for now."

Hermione looked at him, his easiness still perplexing her, and took a deep breath in through her nose. Hermione found a hanky in her lap and used it to mop up the moisture on her face and blow her nose. When she had looked back at George, inhaling a fresh breath, he smiled.

"That's better. What say we go pack you a bag for a few days and you come stay with me?"

Hermione nodded numbly.

Madam Pomfrey waved them from the Infirmary and they walked back through the mostly empty corridors slowly. George's arm did not budge from around her waist and for that she was thankful.

"How're you feeling now? Poppy said you went there because you were quite nauseous," George explained.

"All right for now," Hermione croaked out and let them into her quarters.

"Can I help you with packing at all? Anything?" George asked, at a loss.

"No, I'll just be a minute," she answered, pulling her rucksack from the armoire and stuffing some clothes in, still delayed by shock. "How did you know?" she called out to him in the living room.

"Well," she heard his voice approaching before he popped his head into the bedroom, "You love bacon. And for the first time ever you turned it down when I offered it to you the other morning."

"So?" Hermione furrowed her brow.

"You _never_ turn down bacon. Ron doesn't even _try _to nick it from your plate when you aren't looking and I'm guessing that's because you've nearly taken his hand off for it," George laughed. "Plus you turned away from a kiss and you've been trying to keep the fact that you throw up every morning a secret."

Hermione stopped her packing and looked up.

"You knew?"

"Oh please, Hermione. There's only so long you can fool me for," he cocked an eyebrow and she blushed.

"But how did you _know_?"

"Everything I just said. We haven't been able to use any means of preventing it from happening aside from me _not_ coming inside you which, as you _know_, hasn't been a common practice," he smirked deliberately and she shook her head, blushing.

"Clever," she muttered, going back to shoving things into her bag at random. Hermione brushed past George and grabbed her work bag, stuffing it with papers and a few books to keep her busy and hopefully not fretting over everything. "What were we doing five weeks ago?"

"Uhh," George followed slowly, pondering, "Christmas shopping?"

"Right," Hermione nodded slowly, blush deepening. "I'm ready." She zipped her bag closed and turned to find George holding her coat open for her to slip her arms into. He plucked both bags from the desk and slung them over his shoulder, shushing her protests about carrying her own things.

"Hermione," he paused close to the portrait, waiting for her to halt and look back at him, "I'm happy about this. Are you happy about this?"

"I -" she took a deep breath, thoughts swirling. "Yes, I suppose I am. It's just very..."

"Overwhelming?" George suggested with the raise of his eyebrows into his hairline.

"Very," she nodded fervently before starting and taking a jerky step towards him. "Oh, please don't think that me crying means I'm sad or upset," she rushed out. "That's not it. I just don't know what I'm doing. After all," she gave him a small smile, "we've known this whole time that it would have to happen eventually. I'm just a little..." She wrung her hands as an explanation.

George listened as she spoke and nodded thoughtfully when she was done.

"Alright, let's get out of here." The two left her rooms and headed for the Staff Lounge. "We should look at getting your fireplace hooked up to the floo network," George mentioned as they descended downstairs.

"What for?" Hermione asked lightly.

"It would make me feel better knowing I could get right to your rooms instead of running through the bloody castle looking for you, you know, just in case," George explained.

"Right," Hermione nodded. "That's reasonable."

_Considering the new precious cargo._

A baby.

What were they going to do?

As soon as they arrived at the flat, Hermione wrote St. Mungo's to see about an appointment and before they had even had lunch, a response came back. They would be able to get in for a check-up the next day.

"Are you alright?" George asked Hermione later on that night. They were both sitting on the couch with their noses in books and neither had said a word to the other in a significant stretch of time.

"Yes, just thinking," Hermione nodded and moved a hand to his knee, giving it a small squeeze.

"Mmm, well don't go making yourself worry about everything just yet. Okay?" he prodded.

"How are you so composed? I'm pregnant! There's a baby in there," she pointed sharply to her midsection, "and we've only just gotten married, and I'm writing a book, and you're a business owner and we live in a small apartment over your joke shop and everything we talked about before about taking time for all this instead of rushing it basically thrown out the window -"

George's body was shaking with mirth but he made no noise, not wanting to interrupt her tirade.

"Why are you _laughing_?"

"It's what I do, love," he shook his head lightly. "But I do know that we had decided to wait. It's just that it didn't work out that way. You'll still write your book, I wouldn't let you give that up. We'll figure out a way to make it work. This is exactly why we took on Ron, was it not?"

"Well yes, but Fred and Angelina will have theirs first and then what? He can't do it all by himself," Hermione reasoned.

"No, and he won't have to. Fred and I will work something out so that we're not just leaving it all to Ron. That was never the idea, remember? It'll just be easier to manage the business with three of us. Don't _worry_," George stressed, setting his book facedown open at his page. "Do you think Fred and I haven't discussed this scenario before at all?"

"...You have?" Hermione asked, perplexed.

"Of course! We didn't get to be extremely successful businessmen by _guessing_ our way through it," George laughed. "These sorts of things take consideration, considering we had the time to consider them. It's all swell if things just crop up and you have to deal with them, but we've spoken in great detail about the potential craziness of the next few years. We were not unprepared for this, Hermione," he continued, speaking as if this was to be expected.

"Right," she nodded. "I suppose you're right."

"Can I get that in writing?" he grinned. She bumped him with her elbow and he feigned injury. "Once we go see the healer and we figure out exactly what to expect, you can plan away until your heart's content, alright? But until then, stop worrying. Can't change anything now."

* * *

><p>Hermione endeavoured to take George's advice and stop thinking so much about what was to come, but her efforts were mostly unsuccessful. It was just too big of a thing for her mind to just leave alone. She had also hoped that by the time her and George were at the point of having children, she would have her parents back in her life not only for support for her, but also to be a part of her children's lives.<p>

The Grangers had very much taken a back seat in Hermione's life since receiving her letter and leaving for Hogwarts. Her day to day life while at school had consisted of classes and homework and Harry and Ron; her holidays were spent only in part with them. The other half of the time she was at the Burrow, or Grimmauld Place.

She had reminded them at every juncture that she thought of them every day, which was true, but things were different. On top of going away to boarding school, she was also exploring a completely different world to which they were largely not privy to. For an intelligent muggleborn with a desire to learn every single thing she could about this new world and culture, the whole experience had been all-consuming. Given her friendship with Harry and his tendency to get himself into trouble at every turn, she had decided early on not to give them all the details of her life, which only served as more of a disconnect between them and her over the years.

Fortunately for her, her parents trusted her implicitly, and respected her need to be apart of this new world, good or bad. It was her magical right, and who were they to tell her she must turn her back on this new wonderful world? Hermione had thanked her lucky stars that her parents had been as supportive as they had been.

Not that she felt she had turned away from them or needed to mend any bridges, but she knew they would be so terribly excited for her to give them grandchildren. The fact that that scenario did not seem any more likely than it had last May made her sad. She promised herself that as soon as she felt it was safe enough to bring them back to England and to be apart of her life again, she would.

For them.

For her.

For the baby.

"Ready?" George asked, closing the front door behind himself as he came back from the shop in the afternoon. He had gone down early to work at the shop; they had decided not to tell anyone that she was at the flat for the sake of keeping things quiet until they knew what they were going to do. Hermione had a feeling the quiet wasn't going to last long.

"As I'll ever be," Hermione nodded, swinging her coat around her shoulders and grabbing her bag from the table. Her stomach was in knots. A quick floo later, they were brushing soot from their coats and approaching the front desk. The Welcome Witch looked up from behind her desk marked 'Inquiries'; there was a gleam in her eye that Hermione found most irritating as she looked George up and down semi-discretely.

"Hi there," George started, leaning against the desk lightly, "we're looking for the Maternity Ward?"

Hermione couldn't help the smirk from spreading on her face as the gleam in the witches eye dropped out of sight.

"Up to the fifth floor, through the lounge and past the shop," she pointed vaguely.

"Thank you," Hermione said smugly and George led her around to the lifts none the wiser. The lounge and tearoom was as she remembered it being from when they had visited Arthur after the attack on him by Nagini while guarding the prophecy in her fifth year and they passed through it and went around the small shop there. The doors to the Maternity Ward swung open upon their approach and they looked around for the front desk. There was a Healer's Station nearby and Hermione and George made their way over to it.

"Hello," one of the witches greeted them kindly. "Did you have an appointment with us today?"

"Yes," Hermione started, "for four o'clock."

"Weasley?"

"That's us," George nodded.

"Alright, I'll just get you to fill this form out and I'll come to collect it from you in a few minutes when we're ready for you. You can have a seat just there," she pointed behind them to a row of waiting room chairs and they thanked her before sitting down side by side. George leaned over and watched Hermione fill out the Ministry-required paperwork.

"_Jean?_ I thought it was _Jane_ all this time," George referenced her middle name with faked bewilderment and Hermione laughed, shoving his shoulder with hers over the armrest.

Soon they were being shepherded into a small exam room; though Hermione had never had the need to visit a muggle obstetrician, she imagined the room looked basically the same but the magical healer did not have all the machinery the muggle doctor would have. There was just the raised bed, the doctor's stool, a scale and a small wall of cabinets in which she assumed a number of potions would be stored. The walls of the sage green room had a few posters hanging, about general health and pregnancy and Hermione balked at one that had a diagram of a woman's body and the displacement of her organs as the baby grew; the poster flashed from 4 weeks through to 38 weeks and then back again and her stomach flipped.

George had taken the news remarkably well. Hermione had noticed that he had perhaps not exclaimed his happiness from the rooftops, but the man could not seem to keep a grin from his face. Knowing him as she did, he was probably waiting for the news to sink in before he overwhelmed her with his excitement. He too would need some time to process the new information.

Their lives had changed drastically in the last four months and they were about to change again in another eight or so.

September 1998 to September 1999 was proving to be quite an eventful year.

"Knock knock!" came a call through the cracked door and a small woman edged her way in smoothly. "Hi there, I'm Healer McGinley and I'll be your primary Healer while you are in need of the gynaecology and obstetrics department here at St. Mungo's. Lovely to meet you," she offered her hand to the both of them with a kind smile.

"And you," Hermione smiled nervously, resuming the gentle fidgeting of her hands.

"So you two are Hermione and George Weasley; just married I see," the Healer flipped the chart in the hand open to the first page but didn't glance down for reference. "I'm guessing you're here to confirm a possible pregnancy."

The small woman had closed the door behind herself and perched on the stool with the casters, fixing them with a look.

"Yes," George nodded and patted Hermione's leg gently, calming her.

"Right, why don't you just hop up here," the Healer patted the raised cot with her palm, "and we'll get this underway. You may know by now, because of the new law that passed in September, that I have to provide the appropriate paperwork to the Ministry about your visits; I have to confirm maternity and paternity and submit all of those details for their review. None of it is very serious or invasive, it's just the Ministry wanting to make sure their Injunction is being followed to the letter." The woman was busying herself with pulling some things from a drawer and washing her hands at the sink as Hermione climbed onto the cot using the stepping stool beside and George moved to stand at her shoulder.

"Yes, of course. It outlined all the requirements in the communication they sent," Hermione nodded, trying to keep her nerves in check.

"Lovely. I'm sure you'll have questions about everything and I'll answer as many as I can for you, but first I'll just go through the tests, alright? We'll get all that sorted and then you can ask away," Healer McGinley nodded. "Now just recline back for me if you could, Hermione, and George please don't touch her at all for a few minutes here."

Hermione leaned back against the angle of the bed and the Healer waved her wand over her midsection slowly, much like Madam Pomfrey had.

"Okay, this part is just confirming that you are indeed pregnant..." her eyes flicked over whatever was showing itself to her and she have a protracted nod. "Yes, you very much are," she looked past her spell and gave Hermione a grin. "It looks like the date of conception is December 11th or 12th; It's January 12th, which puts you at four weeks and four days. On Friday, you enter into your fifth week, for reference. That means your expected due date is September 3rd."

"And there's just one in there?" George asked, laughing lightly.

"Yes, just one," the Healer looked up at him.

"You're sure?" Hermione felt her insides shift uncomfortably again, having only just realised that it was possible she had twins growing inside of her.

"Quite," the Healer laughed and turned back to her spellwork.

"Right, fantastic," George beamed.

"Right, paternity for you," she waved her wand in George's direction and then swept it back to Hermione, "and maternity for you, because you never know what people get up to when they have wands..."

Hermione and George looked at each other and laughed.

"And you two are all set for that," she muttered and scribbled away on a form the was presumably for the Ministry's files. "Would you like a magical photo of the little one?"

"Yes please," they chorused and she grinned at them.

"And would you like to find out the gender today?"

They hadn't discussed that at all.

"Erm..."

They looked at each other and both shook their heads tentatively in the negative.

"That's a no," Healer McGinley carried on scribbling. "If you change your mind, we can always tell you at your next visit," she pushed away from the counter and the papers again. "Okay, I'm going to schedule you in for your next check up at the beginning of your second trimester, which will be the last week of February. We'll get you in here in the first week of March, and we'll just make sure everything is growing fine and healthy. Here's some information to take home with you to read through."

She handed a stack of papers and pamphlets to George who held them carefully.

"Everything about diet is in there, exercise, you name it. The important thing is to get enough sleep, enough good food, a moderate amount of exercise, as little stress as possible... All the things that are normally good for you, basically. You must take care of yourself because you aren't just thinking for yourself anymore; a lot of women find this the hardest thing to get used to, admittedly. Are you having much trouble with other symptoms like morning sickness?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded emphatically. "Morning sickness and fatigue. Some occasional mild insomnia but not very much. Headaches. Dizziness."

"Fatigue is to be expected, it takes more energy to grow another person. Just make sure you follow your body's cues; if you're tired, you need sleep. Dizziness is due to changes in your blood pressure; it lowers as your body changes for pregnancy. Headaches are probably a sign that you need sleep, a break from whatever you're doing, a snack, something like that. Now, it's safe to take a mild headache potion, but for morning sickness, we aren't any more advanced than muggles on that front. Ginger helps settle stomachs as does a plain drink with fizz. It's different for each woman so read through the different suggestions in the packet there. It should ease off as you cross into your second trimester, so when we see you next you may very well not be having any anymore. One can hope, am I right?" she grinned. "Okay, I just want to measure you, if you could stretch back and lift your shirt for me and just undo the button on your pants."

Hermione felt her stretch a measuring tape down over her belly to her pubic bone and make a note in her file.

"Right, picture time! This is my favourite part," Healer McGinley beamed. The stood and waved her wand again, this time in the air above Hermione as she lowered her shirt and did up her pants again. In the empty space there, an image was projected; it looked like an old fashion black and white movie, complete with a flickering light source. There in the void of the image space was teardrop-shaped black spot on a fuzzy grey background.

"Is that it?" George asked, his voice hushed in a way Hermione had never heard before and she gripped his hand tightly in her own.

"Yes," the Healer grinned again. "That is Baby Weasley at four and a half weeks. About the size of an apple seed, for comparison's sake."

"An apple seed?" Hermione asked, suddenly watery-eyed and awe-struck. "Something the size of an apple seed is making me feel like I would genuinely like to vomit up my toenails?"

Healer McGinley laughed and there was were a series of clicks as she took some photos for them and they appeared, floating down and settling on the counter beside them.

"Now, these ones won't appear to move because the baby is too small for that yet..."

"Is it possible to get some stills? My parents are muggles," Hermione asked, sitting up slowly, still amazed at the view they had just had of her insides and the tiny being growing there. The healer made some duplicates of the pictures that were muggle in nature and sent them on their way.

"Wow," George breathed as they shuffled back past the gift shop and through the tearoom, the two of them clasping hands fairly silently.

"Yeah, wow," Hermione echoed.

"September 3rd?" George asked, looking down at her, stunned.

"September 3rd," Hermione nodded as they slowed to a stop in the middle of a corridor, the few people walking there scooting around them hurriedly. George looked down at her silently, his eyes bright.

"I can't believe it happened so soon - well, I can," he laughed and pulled the hand he was holding up to kiss the back of it gently.

"Mmm," Hermione nodded in agreement.

"We're pregnant!" he exclaimed, making Hermione jump and laugh as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up, swinging her around before setting her down again.

"We're pregnant!" Hermione beamed up at George and he leaned down to slant his lips over hers happily. It took almost no effort on his part to get in and caress her tongue with his own and they stood there in a tight embrace, oblivious to the whole world that surged around them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Eeek! **

**Next up, telling the family. Whew. Wish them luck. And now you guys know, no twins for these two. The majority of voters on the poll I mentioned said twins (a girl and a boy)!**

**Leave a review!**

**Until next time.**

**Cheers!**


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